


The Spectator

by AmyBot3000



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Bouncy bounce bounce, F/F, Tennis Commentator AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-09-15 18:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9250511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmyBot3000/pseuds/AmyBot3000
Summary: After a career ending injury, tennis legend Lexa Woods now commentates on the sport she loves. During the US Open, wild card Clarke Griffin catches her attention when she makes it through to  the semi finals.Naturally, Lexa becomes a big gay wreck.





	1. Wild Card

**Author's Note:**

> For the leskru.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter has a fairly large wedge dedicated to a tennis match. That's not indicative of what the rest of the chapters are going to be like. Currently there's only 4/5 chapters that will feature (probably diluted) match play. If you have any thoughts and feelings on the amount of tennis play there should be, do let me know, I don't want to over (or under) do it.

  _"You'll never play professionally again. I'm sorry, Lexa."_

It was hot. Too hot.

Lexa pulled off her blazer and stared up at the beating sun. It was days like this she was thankful she would be in the commentary box and not on the heatbox that the court turned into during the midday sun. Her leg twitched uncomfortably at the thought.

Her early retirement from tennis was still an open wound. One poorly laid court was all it had taken for career to come to a startling and abrupt end.

Still, it was _too_ hot.

The intern who was leading her to the box looked like she was about to combust. Lexa knew exactly what it was the young red head wanted.

"Are you going to ask?" Lexa prompted, biting back a smile when the girl tripped over her own feet.

"I- Er, I'm a big fan." She stuttered. "Would you, I mean if it's not too much trouble, would you sign this?"

The intern handed her the previous days programme, and Lexa smiled down at the image.

The blonde on the front cover was glaring across the court, her racket held loosely between her hands as she waited for her opponents serve.

_Wild Card Griffin's Quarter Final Thriller_

Clarke Griffin's rise through the competition had been a pleasant surprise for Lexa. As had the wild card's defeat of the twentieth seed Zoe Monroe earlier in the week. It was just after Lexa's own retirement, over two years ago, that Clarke had dropped out of the top 100 completely. If she was being brutally honest, Lexa hadn't expected to ever see Clarke at a major tournament again.

Not that Lexa minded seeing her again. They had never faced off against each other, or ever really interacted at all, but Lexa had always been happy to catch glances of the blonde on the circuit.

Pulling the Sharpie she always carried with her from her pocket, Lexa scrawled her signature across the programme. “It should be a good match today.” She commented.

The intern was still looking at the magazine Lexa was holding in awe. “You really think she can beat McIntyre?”

Lexa studied Clarke's photo for a moment. With her new coaches, and her apparent resurgence of zeal for her sport, there was a strong chance Clarke would go on to win not just the match, but the whole competition. Lexa could still remembered how Clarke used to play though. Her determination had always been there, but if there was one thing that could break the blonde, it was pressure. Squaring up against the fifth seed Harper McIntyre was exactly the type of pressure that used to make her crumble.

Handing the magazine back, Lexa smiled. “Perhaps.”

* * *

 “And of course, the youngest grand slam champion in history, Lexa Woods joins us in the commentary box today.” Marcus beamed from the seat beside her.

“Thank you for having me.” Lexa replied happily.

“Now, Clarke Griffin vs. Harper McIntyre, a wild card vs. the number five seed.” Marcus said. “Possibly another upset from Griffin today?”

Lexa hummed and looked out onto the court where the two players were warming up. “I think we're looking at a good match. We'll have to see how Griffin performs today. She does have the advantage of being more rested though.”

“All three sets _and_ a tie break has to be weighing heavy on McIntyre.” Marcus agreed.

“Her team will have a recovery plan in place, but after a match like that? She's still going to be feeling it.”

“Talking of teams, your old doubles partner Anya Forrester and world renowned coach Indra Ashdown have of course taken over Griffin's training.”

Lexa had been surprised to hear the news when Anya had called her a few weeks before. She knew her former partner had been working on a secret project, but she hadn't realised it was Clarke Griffin's training.

“For the better if her performance this competition is anything to go by.” Lexa commented.

“Its been a spectacle to watch.”

“I've seen the highlights of her matches,” Lexa admitted guiltily, with all the other matches, she had barely had time to watch even those, “but this will be my first commentating a match with her.”

“Well hopefully, this will be the first of many to come. Ah, I think we're about to start.”

Both players had finished their warm up and the umpire was stood in the middle of the court with them. The umpire flipped the coin in the air and just as Lexa had seen her do from her first heat match of the competition, Harper won the toss.

“McIntyre to serve first.” Marcus noted when Harper indicated her preference.

“Hmm, I'm not surprised, she's picked service first through out the competition.” Lexa said, but instead of watching Harper, she kept her gaze fixed on Clarke.

The woman was jumping from foot to foot, her drawn back hair bouncing with the movement. Lexa's jaw went slack. Her hair wasn't the only thing bouncing.

Lexa wasn't blind. She would freely admit that Clarke Griffin was attractive. The blonde in question jumped again and Lexa's cheeks flushed when she realised her head had followed the movement. Clarke Griffin was _very_ attractive.

“And so we begin the first semi final match of the US Open.” Marcus announced.

Hush settled across the court outside as both players took their positions. Just like the photo in the magazine, Clarke squatted down and twirled the racket in her hand. There was a heat rising up Lexa's neck that had nothing to do with the blazing heat outside.

The opening serve was a fast one. Lexa squinted her eyes, following the ball as it landed-

“Out!” The umpire called.

Lexa almost winced at the speed clocked up on the board. “That's a big serve from McIntyre, if Griffin's going to stand any chance, she's going to need to step into that.”

Clarke shook her arms out before ducking down again, the racket spinning once more.

Harper launched the ball into the air again, and with a crack it was flying at Clarke. The blonde hit it back effortlessly though, straight down the court and out of Harper's reach.

Some players grunted loudly. Some of them practically screamed. The sound Clarke released was a sinfully quiet “ugh”.

Lexa crossed her legs uncomfortably. “That was a fantastic return. Incredible.”

Harper quickly regained her point on the next serve, smashing the ball straight past Clarke and into the boarding behind her.

It wasn't often that Lexa lost herself in a match, but as Clarke and Harper continued to duel it out, she found herself edging closer to the window in front of them. The little noises Clarke was making were going to destroy her before the match was over, Lexa was sure of it. She was genuinely in awe of the blonde though. The first game was all about prodding and teasing from Clarke. She was _testing_ Harper. If Lexa had known _this_ was how Clarke Griffin played, she would have been drawing up a front row seat a long time ago.

Harper wasn't going down easily though. For every point Clarke gained, her opponent was right there to claim the next one.

“ _Deuce.”_

The crowd clapped at Harper's most recent point.

“An excellent play from McIntyre.” Marcus said from beside her, but Lexa was too busy watching Clarke.

Harper's serve was as strong as ever, but the ball fell far outside the line. “Out!”

Anther two balls went wide, and Lexa could see the frustration building in the number five seeds movements.

“ _Advantage, Griffin.”_

One more point and Clarke would have the opening game.

Another strong serve had Clarke barely returning the ball. Three more hits and neither of them were dominating, but it was the forth that showed Lexa, Clarke's quality. Harper's ball bounced too high and any other player might have missed it, but Clarke quickly grabbed the advantage. With a running jump she smashed the ball into the court and out of the Harper's range.

“ _Game, Griffin.”_

Lexa let out a gasp. “I can't remember the last time McIntyre was broken on an opening service game.”

Marcus nodded in agreement. “There's that upset I was talking about. Now she just needs to hold her own service.”

The speed on Clarke's serve was slower than Harper's, leaving the number five seed with an easier return than Clarke had faced. It didn't fluster Clarke though. Lexa watched with increasing rapture as Harper failed to gain a single point against the blonde. Now Clarke knew her opponents limits, she was pushing for the match to be over as soon as possible.

Unfortunately Lexa's own limits were being tested beyond measure. How did Lexa not know Clarke Griffin's “ugh's” turned into a far more infuriating “ahhhh” when she served?

“ _Game, Griffin.”_

The rest of the set followed a similar pattern. Whilst Harper's serve was stronger and won her a game, Clarke broke her twice more without dropping a game of her own.

“ _6 – 1. Set, Griffin.”_

Lexa shook her head, her mouth complete dry. “I don't think I have any words.”

Why had nobody told her to watch Clarke Griffin before? And- Oh. She remembered Anya's comment on the phone.

“ _She's your type of player, Lexa.”_

Lexa had assumed Anya meant technique. Of course her old mentor knew. She knew the mess Lexa was going to become if she watched Clarke play and the infuriating woman had let her go into the match blind.

Lexa watched the two players return to their seats. Both of them were sweating from the overwhelming heat of the sun.

“That was astounding.” Lexa continued. “McIntyre's been on form all season. Just-” Lexa paused, distracted momentarily by Clarke from across the court. Nobody had the right to make drinking water look so good. “Just astounding.”

“Look at that, Commander of the court, Lexa Woods is lost for words.” Marcus jested.

Lexa had only been commentating for a year now, but she had never become so _breathless_ whilst talking about someone play. She was meant to be impartial. She really wasn't meant to be praising Clarke on every single point she won. The crowd had slowly been turning in the wild cards favour too. With every game she won, more and more cheers were directed at Clarke.

“Time.” The umpire announced. Both players were on their feet again and Lexa was torn between wishing Clarke would stop bouncing on her feet and wishing she would never stop.

Clarke powered through her opening service game, her serve growing in confidence as she sent two aces straight past Harper. Lexa tried her hardest to focus back on the match and not _just_ Clarke Griffin.

“It's fairly late, but she's finally settling into her serve.” Marcus commented.

“Yeah.” Lexa said wistfully before quickly straightening up. “It's something her team is going to need to work on.”

“Lets see what McIntyre's serve can do. McIntyre to serve.”

The second game didn't play to Clarke's advantage. Harper pummelled her with fast balls and drove her about the court until she was leading 40 – 15. One more hard serve and the game was won.

“ _Game, McIntyre.”_

“A return to form for McIntyre. Griffin needs to watch that serve.” Marcus said.

Lexa agreed with him, not taking her eyes off Clarke. In the break, Harper had regained some of the confidence losing the opening game of the match had shaken. If Clarke could break her again though...

Once again, Clarke's service game was over quickly. The blonde's serve becoming increasingly steady.

“Now, can she break McIntyre's serve?” Marcus asked no one in particular.

The answer was a resounding "yes". Whatever confidence Harper had gained was quickly diminished as Clarke hit back every serve.

“Ugh.” Lexa muttered under her breath when Harper finally hit an ace straight past Clarke.

“A good serve from McIntyre, she's not out the game yet.” Marcus said.

Despite her single ace, Harper was soon overwhelmed by Clarke's returns. “ _Break point, Griffin.”_

Lexa sighed, the previous rally had been far too long for her liking. One more point and-

Harper's serve bounced awkwardly, but it gave Clarke the perfect angle to send the ball soaring across the court, forcing Harper to run for it. Harper's return was exactly where Clarke had positioned herself, and the blonde sent it flying down the line.

“ _Game, Griffin.”_

Before Lexa realised it, she was fist pumping. She lowered her arm quickly, her cheeks flushing. “Fantastic setup by, Griffin.”

Despite her best attempts to control herself, Lexa couldn't help the little noises of excitement and disappointment that kept slipping from her. Clarke Griffin was far too distracting for her own good. Harper had managed to win another service game, but Clarke had held all of her own.

“5 – 2 to Griffin. One more break and she'll have the match.” Marcus announced as Clarke won her third service game in a row.

Lexa could feel her palms sweating. It was almost like it was her out there on the court again. Pressure. That was Clarke's biggest enemy. Lexa knew being in a semi finals match, and one game away from the finals might very well be the blonde's undoing.

It didn't go Clarke's way.

“ _40 - love.”_

Now she was backed into a corner, Harper was unleashing everything she had on Clarke in a series of aces. The blonde hadn't clocked up a single point. Lexa watched Clarke take in a visible breath before ducking down to receive the final serve.

Except.

Instead of the ball going flying past her like Lexa thought it would, Clarke sent the ball spinning back over the net and ricocheting wildly off Harper's racket.

“ _40 – 15.”_

“ _40 – 30.”_

“ _Deuce.”_

Lexa had to grip onto her seat to stop herself from standing up. Clarke had clawed her way back, returning every single one of Harper's serves. The next was no different, and for a moment, Lexa thought Harper was going to gain the advantage. Clarke didn't disappoint her though. With a swipe of her racket, Clarke chipped the ball over the net and dropped it short of Harper's line before sending the return straight behind the other player.

“Advantage, Griffin. Match point.” The crowd erupted into applause. Lexa could hear shouts of Clarke's name mixed in amongst them as they encouraged her to pull off the upset of the tournament. “Quiet, please.” The umpire finally urged.

Marcus was talking as Harper setup her serve, but Lexa wasn't listening to him. Her eyes were fixed on Clarke. The serve was huge, Harper's biggest of the match, but Clarke still returned it.

Three more hits each and Lexa was just about ready to pass out. Slowly Clarke had worked Harper across the court until she was in the corner diagonal to her. On Harper's next hit, Clarke swung at the ball with two hands, both her arms rippling with the effort. Lexa gasped as she watched the balls trajectory. It travelled the line, hitting the corner of the court and away from Clarke's exhausted opponent.

“ _Game, set and match to Griffin.”_

“Wow.” Lexa blinked, watching Clarke jump into the air in celebration. Clearing her throat, she quickly diverted her attention away. “That was- That was quite something.”

“There you have it folks. Another win for the wild card. We'll be back after these messages for the post match breakdown.”

Lexa wasn't sure if it was just her, but it really was far too hot in there.

* * *

The man at behind the studio camera held up his hand, counting down as the broadcast returned to them.

“Welcome back. I'm Tom O'Dell, and with me I have Lexa Woods and Marcus Kane. Later on we have our second semi final match between Octavia Blake and Emori Harold, but in the meantime, lets talk about the match we've just seen. Clarke Griffin.”

Lexa was already nodding. “Clarke Griffin indeed.”

“You know, I'm not sure I've ever seen you quite so engrossed in a match, Lexa.” Marcus teased.

Lexa hoped her blushing cheeks weren't obvious under the harsh lights of the studio. “I hold my hand up, I was very engrossed. As I'm sure you all heard.”

“Oh, they heard.” Tom beamed at her. “Back to the match though...”

The conversation became all the more professional after that. All three of them broke down Clarke's performance; from her strong returns to her early weak serve. Anya slipped into the topic of conversation too. Lexa had recognised some of Clarke's plays from the ones her former doubles partner used to favour. Lexa tried her hardest to keep her analysis as neutral as possible, but she knew her quest was ultimately in vain when she caught sight of her hands gesturing animatedly on the small screens that lined the floor.

“Now, you've all been contacting us on the hashtag. Official and unofficial.” Tom smiled to the camera.

Lexa knew exactly what the “unofficial” hashtag he was referring to was. It hadn't taken long for her somewhat overzealous fanbase to start trending #TurnTheCamAround every time she commentated on a match.

“As we already mentioned, you weren't the only ones who enjoyed today's thriller either.” Tom continued. A sense of dread washed over Lexa. That comment sounded an awful lot like a segue.

“Is that all we have time for?” She quickly pushed.

“We do just have enough time for this montage.”

On the small screens, Lexa watched with increasing horror as they played back the highlights from the commentary box.

It started off completely fine, just her and Marcus discussing the match, but Lexa could spot the exact moment Clarke started jumping. And so did the camera.

What followed was a series of shots of Lexa growing closer and closer to the window of their box. She almost groaned when they played the moment she had almost slid off the edge of her chair. She couldn't remember herself ever looking so animated. The audio that accompanied the shots didn't help. Every time Clarke made a shot, Lexa had apparently let out a little hum of appreciation, and every time Harper had forced an error she had let out a what sounded like a _whine_.

The worst was yet to come though, as the montage came to a close they showed the end of the match. The look on Lexa's face when Clarke landed her final shot was quite possibly the gayest thing she had ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thirsty Lexa is thirsty.


	2. A Legend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awesome, the first chapter went over well :D  
> Whilst I do enjoy tennis, I'm not a tennis expert by any means. If anyone with a bit more technical nous spots any glaring mistakes, feel free to correct me on them!

“ _Your return to the top one hundred is in your hands. All Anya and I can do is help guide you there.”_

Clarke bit into another piece of her omelette, humming contently around the still warm food. She looked up at the television at the end of her hotel bed as she chewed. The footage running mutely on the screen was from the previous days afternoon session. Clarke already knew the result of the second semi final match highlights that were playing, Indra had told her whilst she was “relaxing” in her ice bath. It was just as everyone expected. Octavia Blake had beaten Emori in straight sets.

It was only when Octavia herself appeared on the screen, with a microphone being held in front of her by an unseen reporter, that Clarke quickly turned up the volume.

“Octavia Blake, world number one, through to the final of the US Open for the third year running, how are you feeling?” The reporter asked.

“I'm feeling great. I came here with the goal of lifting the title again and it looks like I'm going to do it.” Octavia smiled, adjusting the strap of her equipment bag. Despite playing in temperatures even higher than Clarke's own match, the woman looked remarkably pristine.

“That's if you can get past Clarke Griffin,” he said, and Clarke smiled at the mention of her own name. “She's had quite the tournament. Any worries?”

“None at all,” the blonde's smile quickly dropped into a frown, “I think the players she's faced have underestimated her because she's 'just' the wild card. I've been on a roll all season though, I don't intend to stop here.” Octavia boasted before tipping her head back and laughing. “I'll have to make it a short match though because this heat is _killing_ me. Man, it's roasting out there.”

Clarke glared angrily at the screen. Even if Octavia did beat her, Clarke vowed to drag it out for the full three sets out of spite. She couldn't wait to wipe the smug look off her face.

As the interview continued, Clarke could see why Indra had dropped the player. Octavia's goading and sledging of her fellow competitors was almost as legendary as her _actual_ tennis skills. It was exactly the the kind of attitude and approach to tennis Clarke could see clashing with her new coach's ideals.

Indra was proud. She believed in skill and tactics without reducing the player to cheap psychological tricks and disrespect off the court. A fact she had made very clear to Clarke at their very first meeting. In fact, it was after one particularly explosive blow up with Octavia _about_ her off court attitude, that Indra had stormed out of the woman's dressing room and ended up at the court Clarke was playing on.

The rest was history.

“Now on a lighter note, yesterday, Lexa Woods-”

“Clarke,” Indra's voice snapped through the door, “is that the TV I can hear?”

Clarke quickly scrambled for the remote, switching off the television before she could hear what the presenter was about to announce.

“No. Definitely not.”

“Training. Twenty minutes, Griffin.” Indra ordered before heavily marching away from the door.

Clarke frowned. Her muscles were still sore from the previous days match, but she didn't doubt Indra would have her running laps now.

Stuffing the last piece of omelette into her mouth, Clarke swung her legs out of the bed. She eyed up the door to the shower room. It wasn't like she hadn't showered since her match. She just hadn't washed her hair properly yet.

If she showered though, she wouldn't have time to eat the fruit salad that had been delivered with her omelette. Looking between the two, Clarke quickly made her decision. She was only going to training, it wasn't like anyone important was going to see her.

Reaching out to the bedside table, Clarke tucked into the bowl of fruit salad.

* * *

“Shit. Why didn't you tell me she was coming?” Clarke gasped, almost stumbling to a halt.

As it turned out, when Clarke thought she wouldn't be seeing anyone important that day, she had been entirely, and horrifically, wrong.

“I didn't think it was necessary.” Indra replied, striding off ahead of the blonde.

“I would have tried to look less... Less...” Clarke frowned down at herself. She was in her old track suit, the one with food stains on the left knee and a hole in the right. She didn't need to feel her hair to know it was a greasy mess.

“Unkempt?” Indra provided.

Clarke glared at the other woman. “I prefer your stoic silences.”

A smile twitched at Indra's mouth. “Ah, she's already here.” She announced as they reached the top of the stairs that descended to her assigned training court.

This time, Clarke did stumble to a stop.

Lexa Woods, youngest Grand Slam Champion, Olympic gold medallist, and former world number one, was standing on the training court talking to Anya. On _Clarke's_ training court.

“Oh God.”

Realistically, Clarke knew Lexa was probably just there to catch up with her old doubles partner. But that didn't mean a part of her wasn't hoping the brunette's visit _wasn't_ just for Anya. After all, Clarke had just knocked Harper McIntyre out the competition. Maybe Lexa had seen the match and was actually there to see-

“The court is down here, Clarke.” Indra called up to her from the bottom of the stairs.

Clarke scowled at her. Apparently she had been frozen to the spot far longer than she realised.

Lexa had also heard Indra's shout and smiled in Clarke's direction as the blonde finally made her way down to the court. With Anya in tow, Lexa started walking over.

There was a slight awkwardness to Lexa's gait, an almost limp as she favoured her right leg. Clarke knew it was a result of the injury that had ended her professional career. She had seen the pictures and x-rays of Lexa's injury. Everyone had after they were leaked to the press. It was remarkable the woman was even walking considering the state her knee had been left in.

“Clarke Griffin.” Lexa greeted formally.

“I- Wow.” To say Clarke was stunned would be an understatement. “Lexa Woods.”

“I enjoyed your match yesterday. You played very well.”

Clarke's heart clenched. “You _saw_ it?” She asked, surprise lacing her tone.

Lexa's head twitched to the side slightly, her brow creasing with confusion. “I commentated on it.”

“Social media black out.” Anya provided.

Indra was the one who insisted on Clarke cutting contact with the outside world during her competitions. The blonde had been reluctant to agree at first, but she knew her new coach was right to suggest it. Her performance problems weren't because she lacked the necessary skills to win. Clarke knew she was perfectly capable of holding her own against the higher seeded players. Her problem was far more psychological.

For some reason, Lexa's shoulders seemed to slump in relief at Anya's revelation. “I see.”

“You know, you sounded quite flustered on the commentary yesterday, Lexa.” Anya said distractedly, her fingers spacing out the strings of her racket.

“The box was too hot.” Lexa replied quickly, a slight flush of red appearing on her cheeks.

Anya hummed. “You mean, the nice, cool, air-conditioned, commentary box?”

“The air-conditioning was broken.” Lexa fired back.

Clarke wasn't stupid. Between Anya's teasing and Lexa's flushed cheeks, it was clear _something_ had happened that she wouldn't be privy to until after the tournament.

Clarke grimaced when she remembered how hot the court had been during her match. “You're lucky you weren't out on the court. I was sweating like dog.”

“Dogs don't actually sweat that much.” Lexa replied. Clarke wasn't sure, but she thought she heard Anya mutter the word “hopeless” under her breath. “Just, you know, through their paws.”

“Come, Anya, let's setup.” Indra prompted, the smile on her face barely restrained. Clarke squinted at the pair of them as they started setting up the court for her. There was something going on. Most definitely.

“Right, well, I was sweating _a lot._ ” Clarke said as she smiled back at Lexa again.

“I saw.”

“Of course because you were, you were commentating.” Clarke cringed internally. Both her towels had been soaking wet with her own sweat by the end of the match. She must have looked disgusting. “Did you have a favourite part?”

“Yes!” Lexa answered immediately, making Clarke jolt at the sudden increase in volume. “Sorry, yes, your final shot, it was sublime.”

“I- Thank you. It's my favourite actually.” She revealed. “I practice it a lot with Anya.”

The other woman's brow creased for a moment. “Your serve was weak though, at the start.”

The criticism stung, but Clarke knew Lexa was right. It wasn't until the second set that she had managed to start serving balls to worry Harper. Before then, she had been mediocre, at best.

“I- Yeah.” Clarke agreed. “We're working on that.”

Lexa nodded. “If it's okay with you, I would like to watch you train today.”

Clarke's eyes widened. Lexa _was_ there to see her. Lexa Woods, tennis legend, was there to watch _her_ train. The player Clarke had looked up to for her whole career was asking to watch her train.

Lexa looked at her expectantly, and Clarke realised she was taking far too long to answer.

“Yeah, sure-” Clarke stuttered, her fingers nervously pulling at the sleeves of her jacket. “Maybe you can give me some serving tips?”

There was a look of amusement on Lexa's face. “Keep your eye on the ball.”

Clarke let out a short bark of laughter. “Yeah, I'll keep that in mind. Have you ever thought of going into coaching? Like Anya has?”

“Me? I wouldn't be able to keep up.” Lexa replied, indicating down to her knee.

Clarke almost slapped her hands over her face. “Shit, sorry.”

“Hey, Commander!” Anya shouted, saving Clarke from putting her foot in it any further. “Pick up a racket.”

“She doesn't like to be kept waiting.” Lexa said, smiling at Clarke.

“Here,” Clarke swung her racket bag over her should and unzipped it. “You can use mine.”

“Thank you, Clarke. I'll leave you to get warmed up.”

Lexa was great. Well, she was more than great, but Clarke was still too awe struck to think of a more poetic word.

Clarke watched Anya and Lexa seamlessly rally the ball as she began her warm up. She stretched out her muscles first, slowly waking them up ready for the training Indra was going to put her through.

“One more repetition, Clarke.” Indra ordered when she finished her second round.

The blonde could feel the first droplet of sweat trailing down the back of her neck. The temperature was already rising. It was probably going to be even hotter than the previous day by the time it was midday.

Sighing at the thought of having to play in the heat again, Clarke unzipped her jacket and threw it onto the benches. She was glad she remembered to put sun block on her bare midriff, she didn't want a repeat of the Australian open four years ago.

Her sport bra was clean at least. Clarke shifted the band underneath her breasts. Whilst she was insanely proud of the curves that made up the upper half of her body, they weren't exactly conducive to playing tennis. She bounced lightly on her feet, happy that the bra kept everything in place.

She was just about to begin her final round of stretches when the sound of a ball cracking extra hard sounded from behind her. Clarke looked back in confusion.

“Whoa,” Anya gapped. “Okay, that was definitely out.” There was a ball on the other side of the chain linked fence behind the coach, slowly rolling further away from the court.

“My leg, it twinged.” Lexa said, her gaze pointedly fixed on the retreating tennis ball.

Clarke frowned. “Do you want me to take a look? I studied physiotherapy for a while.” She offered.

“No!” Lexa practically shouted. The blonde tilted her head at the woman's panicked expression as she glanced towards Clarke. “No, that's quite okay.” She said, looking away again.

Rolling her eyes, Clarke approached anyway. She knew how stubborn some athletes could be about their old injuries. “Honestly, it's no trouble.”

“It happens from time to time.” Lexa protested, her tongue flicking over her lips. “It's fine.”

Lexa's face had gone beat red and once more her tongue licked at her lips. “Are you sure you're okay?” Clarke asked.

The brunette jolted as is she had only just realised Clarke was standing beside her. “Yes...” Lexa said weakly.

“It's just,” Lexa licked her lips again. “Do you need some water? You keep licking your lips.”

Anya bellowed out a laugh from behind them. When Clarke turned around to look, she saw Indra standing beside the other woman, her hand over her mouth as if she was trying to control her own laughter too.

Clarke wondered if her mind was still sluggish from the match. She had no idea what was going on. Lexa's cheeks were flushing an even deeper shade of red. Maybe the heat of the day was already too much for her.

“No thank you, Clarke.” Lexa finally replied. “I'm not thirsty.”

Clarke wasn't sure she had ever seen Anya laugh so hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I'm not thirsty."  
> Of course you're not Lexa...


	3. Road Block

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably won't be a chapter next week (well this week!). I'm going to be concentrating on finishing up the first chapter of Holon's sequel. Sorry for the delay on this one btw, writing the match play gave me a lot of grief. Speaking of which (even though there's no match play for the next few chapters), do let me know if you think there was too much/not enough of it.

 “ _No, I won't calm down! Everything I worked for, everything I sacrificed, it was all for nothing!”_

When Lexa had made the decision to go to Clarke's training court, it had been with the sole intent of apologising.

Her outbursts from the semi final match had only gained traction overnight, leaving her feeling increasingly guilty. Whilst Clarke may have already been some what used to the spotlight, Lexa knew she wouldn't be prepared for the sudden tsunami of attention being thrown her way. There was no telling how much her final match performance might be affected.

Except.

Clarke had no idea what had happened. A fact Anya had conveniently forgotten to mention when Lexa had called to ask what court the blonde was on. Once Lexa _had_ realised Clarke knew nothing, she should have dismissed herself. All she needed to have done was wished the woman luck in her next match and gotten the hell out of there before something horrifically embarrassing could happen.

Something like smashing the ball out of the court when she realised Clarke had stripped down to a sports bra. In Lexa's defence, she was certain she would have been okay if she hadn't looked up the moment Clarke started bouncing on the spot.

Clarke had of course come running to Lexa's side the moment she mentioned her leg being the cause of her sudden inability to keep the ball inside the court. It was another item to put on the list of Clarke Griffin related reasons Lexa was going to hell.

Lexa tried to keep her eyes off Clarke as she continued to stare at her in worry.

“Do you need some water? You keep licking you lips.” Clarke asked, making Lexa's embarrassment spike even further. The way Clarke was looking it at her with increasing concern was making Lexa feel terrible. She truly was going to the fiery depths of hell.

Clarke looked behind her at the almost crumpled form of Anya. Lexa tried to stop herself, but the moment Clarke's head was turned, Lexa's eyes dipped down to the front of her chest.

If there was a level below hell that's where she would be going.

Lexa only just caught herself in time.

“No thank you, Clarke.” She replied as evenly as possible when Clarke turned back to face her. “I'm not thirsty.”

Her defence only seemed to set Anya off even more. The shade of red her former doubles partner was turning was almost as concerning as the heat Lexa could feel radiating from her own cheeks.

Clarke's eye flickered between her two coaches and Lexa. “I'm totally missing something aren't I?” She asked suspiciously.

Lexa tilted her chin up, trying to at least _look_ like she wasn't on the verge of a heart attack. “I think I should go sit down.”

“Come on, Commander.” Anya snickered. “I think it's time we get you in the shade.”

With her eyes squinting, Clarke glared at the pair of them. “I am going to find out what this is all about, you know.”

Lexa barely stopped herself from gulping.

* * *

Lexa watched Clarke train with interest. Despite playing just the day before, the blonde was still light on her feet and completing all the exercises Indra and Anya were setting her without any difficulty.

Clarke had just finished returning a round of serves from Anya, when Lexa's former doubles partner came to join her on the benches. Across the court, Indra was showing Clarke something on her tablet.

“Footage from yesterday.” Anya explained. “Don't worry, she's muted it.”

Lexa couldn't help scowling at her. “You could have told me Clarke didn’t know.”

“And miss you losing your cool over a pretty girl?” Anya replied, a sly grin appearing on her face.

“Clarke Griffin is not a pretty girl.” Lexa protested weakly. “She is a very talented tennis player.”

“That's high praise coming from you.”

“Praise that's deserved.” Lexa replied. “Do you think she'll win tomorrow?”

“Blake is all talk. She says she won't make the same mistake of underestimating her...” Anya trailed off and Lexa smiled.

“But she already has.”

Taking Anya's water bottle from her hands, Lexa took a sip. She couldn't hear what Indra was saying to Clarke, but the blonde was nodding her head vigorously as the older woman took her through something she was drawing on the screen.

“What changed?” Lexa finally asked.

“Hmm?”

“The last time I heard Clarke Griffin's name was when she fell out of the top one hundred.” She explained.

“Turns out I'm very gifted at coaching.” Lexa looked at Anya expectantly. “Clarke's story isn't mine to tell.”

Lexa hummed. “So there is a story.”

“Curious?” Anya asked.

“Very.”

Anya studied her for a moment. “I thought I would just get to see you flustered by the pretty girl. This is new.”

Lexa's cheeks erupted with another blush. “I don't get flustered around pretty girls.” She denied again.

“'My leg twitched', really, Lexa?”

“I get flustered around beautiful _women_.” Lexa conceded.

Anya barked out a laugh, her head falling back. “She thinks very highly of you too.” She finally said.

“Well, I did used to be the best player in the world.” Lexa smirked. There was a time when joking about it was too hard. When even _thinking_ about what she had lost was too painful.

“Some say you still are.” Anya bumped her shoulder into Lexa's, apparently picking up on her friends darkening mood. “How's the physio going anyway?”

Both Indra and Clarke moved towards the baseline and from the way Indra was pointing at it, Lexa assumed whatever it was they were discussing had to do with Clarke's serve.

“They said I can start running properly again soon, just not the miles we used to do.”

“Clarke hates running. Says it strains her lower back.” Anya said offhandedly. Lexa gulped, her eyes darting to Clarke's chest unconsciously. She knew exactly what would be causing that strain... “You're so predictable, Clarke's going to love this when she finds out.”

The reminder of her impending doom had Lexa wincing. “You should extend her social media blackout to forever.”

* * *

Lexa had excused herself from Clarke's training in the early afternoon to prepare for the next days commentating. The blonde had continued to hold her form throughout the session and Lexa was impressed to see the tweaks Indra was making to her serve sticking.

It still wasn't perfect. Her balance was still wavering more than Lexa would consider appropriate, but she was landing them faster at least. Any real improvement would come in the weeks between the US Open and Clarke's next competition in China.

“I hear you went to see Clarke yesterday.” Marcus smiled at her as he adjusted his microphone.

Lexa shouldn't have been surprised that news of her visit to Clarke's training court had already spread. “I thought I should apologise.” She explained. “Turns out she's on a media blackout.”

“Indra?” Marcus asked, and Lexa nodded. “It's a good approach. The amount of pressure players are under these days to keep fans updated on everything... I'm not sure I could have done it.”

“They're not just players any more, they're brands.”

The headphone Lexa had in her ear crackled lightly before a man's voice came through. “We're switching over in ten, nine, eight...”

Shuffling on her seat to get a better view of the court, Lexa waited.

“Clarke Griffin vs. Octavia Blake. Wild-card vs. last years Champion.” Marcus announced the moment the feed switched over. “If you're just joining us, welcome to the 2016 US Open, women's grand final. I'm Marcus Kane and joining me today is Lexa Woods.”

“Quite the final we've got today. I don't think there's an empty seat out there.” Looking out to the court, Lexa quickly diverted her eyes away from Clarke as she started rallying the ball with Octavia.

“Now, is Clarke Griffin going to be just another stepping stone for Blake to get her Grand Slam, or is she going to be the roadblock that gets in her way?” Marcus asked.

“Clarke was looking strong in training yesterday, if her form's held overnight, then I think she could be one to stop Blake's roll. Now, Blake seemed confident on Wednesday, but she's _got_ to be careful that she doesn't do exactly what she's accused Clarke's previous opponents of doing. Clarke shouldn't be underestimated.”

“Exactly.” Marcus replied, his head nodding. “This isn't a case of a wild-card meeting unfit players, Griffin has won these matches against players who are arguably at the top of their game.”

“It's going to be interesting to see what Clarke can do here today. We know she has the talent, now it's all about whether she can hold her ground in such a high pressure match.”

“And Blake has _got_ to watch that confidence.” Marcus reiterated. “We saw it with McIntyre's match against Griffin on Wednesday. She was too confident coming in and when Griffin started taking sets from her, she started to crumble.”

“Definitely, and right now Blake is running on a massive high. She hasn't just won all her minor tournaments this year, she's won the Australian Open _and_ Wimbledon. That's a recipe for over confidence in a player who we know has had problems with it in the past.”

“Hold that thought, because it looks like...” Marcus leant out of his seat and looked out over the court. “It looks like we're about to begin. The coin toss was done pre-match today. Blake to serve first.”

The crowd was still murmuring words of encouragement towards both players as they took their positions.

“ _Quiet please.”_ The umpire said into his microphone.

Octavia bounced the ball at her feet, her brow knitting in concentration. A couple more bounces and she threw the ball in the air, meeting it with a clean shot from her racket.

Lexa quickly stared down at the board as the ball went across the court. It was slower than Octavia's standard serve and Clarke easily returned it.

Two more slow shots, and a mistake from Clarke gave Octavia the first point.

“ _15 – love.”_

It wasn't quite the explosive opening Lexa had been hoping for. “Docile start from Blake.” She commented.

“I've seen this approach from her before,” Marcus noted as Octavia got herself into position again. “She'll try and dictate the speed of the match now.”

Just as he had predicted, Octavia continued to control the set speed, racking up the next three points easily.

“ _Game, Blake.”_

“A much slower game than we were anticipating, and an easy win for Blake.” Marcus said, his hand rubbing at his chin.

“Clarke doesn't seem to be panicking though, it'll be interesting to see how she responds with her service.”

Silence descended on the court again as Clarke prepared her first serve of the match.

“Whoa.” The word slipped past Lexa's lips before she had the chance to bite it down.

Clarke's opening serve clocked up a higher speed than any of her serves in the first set against Harper.

“Wonderful ace from Griffin.” Marcus smiled.

If Octavia had controlled the speed of the first game, then Clarke was definitely in control of the second. Every shot she sent over the net to Octavia was harder than the previous, and Lexa couldn't help watching her muscles flexing more and more with each hit.

“ _Game, Griffin.”_

“And an easy win for Griffin too.” Marcus said into the microphone. “Now, will Blake speed up or is she going to try and force Griffin to slow down?”

In a repeat of her first game, Octavia sent the ball over the net with a slower serve than they all knew she was capable of. Except this time Clarke didn't return the ball at the same pace.

With two hands suddenly on her racket, Clarke sent the ball flying back towards the other player. Octavia struggled to react in time. With her arm barely drawing back enough, her return left Clarke with the perfect opportunity to smash the ball past her.

“ _Love – 15.”_

Lexa's eyes widened in excitement at Clarke's play. “Fantastic turn of pace from Clarke!”

“Now the question is, can Blake keep her cool?” Marcus added.

The answer was no.

Whatever game plan Octavia had beforethe game had apparently been completely disregarded. Instead of holding her pace, Octavia's next serve crashed into the boarding behind Clarke at a terrifying speed, leaving the blonde no opportunity to even attempt a return.

“ _15 – 15.”_

From her position in the commentary box, Lexa was sure she could see a slight smile tugging on Clarke's lips as she spaced out the strings on her racket.

Clarke was more than prepared for Octavia's next serve. Despite the speed registering faster than the brunette's previous ball, Clarke swung her racket directly into its path. What ensued was a dog fight of fast balls flying across the court as each player tried to out manoeuvrer the other. It was a mistake from Octavia that left Clarke with the perfect opportunity to use her favourite shot.

“ _15 – 30.”_

There was a squeak. Lexa definitely let out a squeak.

Her cheeks flushing, Lexa quickly spoke into the microphone. “Straight down the line again. The fact she lands that shot nearly every time is testament to the talent Clarke has as a player.”

“It really is superb to watch.” Marcus agreed.

The next ball was played just as hard. Regardless of her power, Octavia's attempts to overwhelm Clarke with fast balls wasn't working. This time it was Clarke's talent alone that let her setup the winning shot, and honestly, Lexa wasn't sure how she managed to stay in her seat when the ball bounced straight past Octavia.

“ _15 – 40. Break point.”_

“It's early, but a break now would be crucial.” Lexa stressed.

Not wanting to give Clarke the chance to win on a rally, Octavia pummelled her serve across the net. The tactic was for naught though. Once again, Clarke struck the ball perfectly, making the brunette scramble across the court for it. Octavia was still going for power though. She practically screamed on her next hit, her muscles rippling as she hit the ball back again. The moment the racket hit, Lexa knew it was too hard.

“ _Out!”_ The umpire called as the ball flew over Clarke's base line. _“Game, Griffin.”_

The crowd erupted into another round of applause and Lexa could hear the shouts of Clarke's name.

“Another early break for Griffin, absolutely fantastic play.” Marcus commented.

Lexa desperately tried to school her expression and hide the excitement she was feeling on the blonde's behalf. “She kept her cool throughout that first game, saw what Blake was doing, then attacked on the second service game perfectly.”

Marcus hummed his agreement. “Blake is completely rattled, she can't win this on sheer power, she _has_ to think tactically with this or she will start dropping more games.”

Clarke won the next game easily, not giving Octavia the chance to gain a single point. Much to Lexa's disappointment though, Octavia had settled herself by the time her next service game came around. It was an easy win for the brunette, but all Clarke had to do was hold her service games, and the first set would be hers.

And that was exactly what she did.

“ _Set, Griffin.”_ The umpire announced as Clarke landed her second ace of the match.

“Brilliant serve, it's just a shame it's not more consistent.” Marcus said as the board at the end of the court flipped over to display the sets final score.

Both players looked relieved to return to their seats and into the small amount of shade the umbrellas being held over them provided.

“That was of course the first time Blake's lost the opening set in this competition .” Lexa commented as she watched Clarke dip down to reach under her seat for her water, her top-

Lexa quickly blinked her eyes away. There was another blush burning at her cheeks and she prayed the camera's weren't picking up on it.

On the other side of the umpires chair, Octavia had draped her towel over her head, soaking the material with her water bottle. Lexa could just see the woman's fingers pressing together one by one. It was a familiar calming habit Lexa had seen Octavia do before.

Clarke _had_ rattled her.

“ _Time.”_

Both players returned to their positions.

“So we enter the second set of the women's final. Blake to serve.” Marcus muttered into the microphone.

The first four games played out just as the closing games of the first set had. It was making Lexa far more nervous that she knew it should. She was meant to be _commentating_ on the match, not willing Clarke to win.

“Clarke can't let this go to a tiebreak if she wants to win this set.” Lexa suddenly announced as the blonde prepared for Octavia's serve. “She has to start breaking Blake's serve.”

It was as if the blonde had heard her.

“ _Love – 30.”_

Marcus let out a gentle laugh. “I think she heard you. Love – 30 to Griffin.”

Clarke bounced on her feet before ducking down to receive Octavia's third serve. She returned the ball easily and for possibly the tenth time that match, the pair of them started to slog it out for the point.

With two hands on her racket, Octavia sent the ball speeding towards Clarke. Clarke jerked forwards-

“ _Out!”_

By the time the umpires call went out, the blonde had already sent the ball spinning back over the net. Octavia wasn't content on letting it bounce past her though. With a loud grunt, she smashed it into the court and sent it flying into the board behind Clarke.

“Oooh, that was uncalled for.” Kane muttered shaking his head.

The umpire called Octavia over to his chair. From the woman's stormy expression it was obvious he was telling her to calm down.

Despite wanting to smile at Octavia's slipping control, Lexa tried to stay as impartial as possible. “She might not have been showing it, but Blake was _far_ too confident coming into this. If she wants to pull this back, she needs to settle down again.”

Much to Lexa's delight, Octavia double faulted. With the way the players eyes were blazing into the strings of her racket it was remarkable the thing hadn't set ablaze.

“ _Game, Griffin.”_

The screen on the side of the court flashed, changing the score to 2 – 3.

Clarke's service game passed in the blink of an eye. There was still an unsteadiness to her serve, but thanks to Octavia's wavering confidence, the brunette couldn't take advantage of a single one.

“ _Game, Griffin.”_

The board changed again. 2 – 4.

Lexa's palms started to sweat. If Clarke could break Octavia again... It wasn't to be though and she audibly scoffed at the result of the next game. Clarke had come close to breaking Octavia again, the board switching between deuce and Clarke's advantage seven times before Octavia had been able to pull off a win with two aces.

“ _Game, Blake.”_

Lexa glared at the score card. The 3 – 4 that flashed up felt like it was mocking her. Seven times she had said “advantage, Clarke”, and seven times she had expected to say “game, Clarke.”

“That was very lucky. Lets see if that gives her the boost she needs to break Griffin.” Marcus commentated.

Despite the wide smile on Octavia's face, the boost in confidence didn't seem to come. With a sudden surge in serving speed, Clarke quickly pulled away from the brunette, winning the game without dropping a single point.

3 – 5.

Lexa didn't care about the camera in the corner of the room any more. She shuffled her seat forwards, almost pressing herself against the glass to get a better view of Clarke.

The speed on Octavia's first serve was obscene, but the accuracy completely wild. The ball bounced well past Clarke's base line.

“She has the speed, but she's completely lost the accuracy.” Lexa mentioned as Octavia set up her second attempt.

The second serve was slower, but when she tried to return it to Clarke, Octavia's growing frustration had her hitting it far harder the necessary. Once again it flew well outside the back of the court.

“ _Out! Love – 15.”_

Octavia turned her back on Clarke and spaced out the strings on her racket. Keeping her increasing irritation under control, Octavia sent a solid serve Clarke's way. It was easy enough to return, which was apparently what Octavia had been waiting for.

Octavia ran to the net and gently chipped the ball, slowing it down until it dropped over the other side. It was a cheap shot. There was no denying the skill it took to do it, but Lexa completely despised it.

Clarke refused to let her lead go though. With more speed than Lexa was truthfully expecting, Clarke bolted from her line and threw herself at the ball. Octavia was already scrambling backwards, and with a leap she managed to make enough contact to get it back over the the net again.

Clarke was still too far inside the court, leaving her no choice but to volley the ball back. It forced Octavia to run forwards again and with a flick of her wrist the brunette tried to manoeuvrer the ball around Clarke. Clarke was ready though. With the racket stretched out in her left hand Clarke sliced at the ball to send it straight around the back of Octavia instead.

“ _Love – 30.”_

Again, Octavia spaced out her strings. Her next serve started a rally. Lexa knew it was a mistake. Out of all the rallies, Clarke had managed to convert nearly every single point. It was fascinating to watch her slowly manipulating her opponent into the position _she_ wanted them in.

It meant Clarke could set them up for her best shot. With both hands on the racket, Clarke sent the ball whizzing down the line.

“ _Love – 40-”_

Even from the commentary box, Lexa could hear Octavia's protests.

“Come on! That was out!” She yelled towards the umpire. “It wasn't even close to the line.”

Frowning at Octavia, the umpire moved away from the microphone and mouthed something to her. He was clearly losing patience with the woman.

“Yeah, I am challenging it! What did you think I was doing?!”

The screen on the side of the court lit up with a over head view of the court. Slowly the yellow ball made its way across the screen until it's shadow was clearly hitting Octavia's base line.

“ _Point upheld. Blake has one challenge remaining. Love – 40. Match point.”_

Anticipation was swirling in Lexa's stomach. “One more point and she's done it. One more point and Clarke will be holding a trophy _none_ of us ever predicted she would touch.”

Octavia's jaw visibly ground as she setup her next serve. The ball flew high into the air and even with her more than slight bias, Lexa could still admit it was a brilliant serve.

The ball bounce perfectly, and with all the power Octavia was known for. Against a lesser opponent it would have given her an easy ace. Gripping onto the seat beneath her, Lexa managed to stop herself from clapping her hands together when Clarke's return fired across the court and away from Octavia's outstretched racket.

“ _Game, set, match, Griffin.”_

Clarke instantly crashed to her knees, her hands covering her face.

“There we have it folks! The wild-card has done it again!” Marcus smiled. “What a momentous occasion for Clarke Griffin.”

Clarke rose to her feet again and from the expression on her face, Lexa knew she was crying. “Stunning.” She said, watching the blonde wave to the cheering crowd around her. “An absolutely stunning victory.” Lexa quickly clarified.

Clarke ran to the net and shook both Octavia's and the umpire's hands. The moment it was over, Octavia marched off towards her seat to start packing up her rackets and towels. Lexa knew the loss would sting, especially since she had been on course to gain a grand slam in one year. She would learn though. Lexa was sure her coach was already preparing a briefing on where she had gone wrong.

Whether or not Octavia chose to listen to that was different matter.

Marcus was still talking into the microphone, his voice full of joy as he congratulated Clarke on her success. Lexa's attention was completely on the blonde though. The way she played, the _tactics_ she used, the way she could read her opponent. Lexa couldn't remember ever being so impressed by a player.

“We'll be back with the post match interview and review, after these messages.” Marcus said, finally pulling Lexa's attention away from Clarke's celebrations.

With fumbling fingers, Lexa unclipped the microphone from her shirt and pulled her blazer on. The studio wasn't far, but if she wanted to make it there on time she would need to start making her way there soon.

Marcus was already standing and ready to leave, his fingers flicking through his phone as he waited. “You're trending again.” He laughed before turning his phone around for Lexa to see.

“#AdvantageClexa” was on the side of the screen and Lexa's mouth dropped open when she saw the number beside it.

“It's trending at number one in the US?” She gasped.

“No,” Marcus was practically beaming at her, “the world. That tape really took off, huh?”

Lexa wanted to groan. For a moment, she had hoped Clarke's victory might have muted the interest everyone had in her reaction to the blonde.

“I suppose you using her first name throughout the whole match really helped too.” He mentioned before looking back down at his phone.

Lexa's mouth dropped open, her mind suddenly whirling with panic. “What?”

“You called her Clarke, for the whole thing.” Marcus looked back up at her, his brow furrowing. Lexa could feel her face paling. “I thought you knew?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess what Clarke discovers in the next chapter?  
> FYI, it's canon that Lexa snuck some glances at Clarke's boobies, so I had to include it. My hand was forced. Everyone thank Newsies73 for the #AdvantageClexa hashtag :D  
> Thank you for all the comments, and thank you for being so kind in them.


	4. Trophy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back :) This chapter was ready last night, but AO3 was refusing to co-operate. I think all the changes I made saved correctly... If you spot any glaring mistakes let me know!  
> Also, thank you very much for the feedback on the last chapter.

_“_ _When you're out on the court, you leave everything else behind. You have to focus, Clarke.”_

“Your exile is official over.” Indra announced as she leaned against the wall of the changing room. "You can have your phone back."

The news had Clarke gasping. She had really thought Indra was going to keep it from her until they were back at the hotel. It wasn't that she was necessarily obsessed with her social media accounts, but being cut off from the outside world, for two weeks, during the most successful tournament of her career? The anticipation had slowly been driving her insane.

Anya shook her head at her eager outstretched hands, but dropped the device into them anyway.

“Ugh, I didn't realise how much I'd miss this thing.” Clarke muttered whilst the phone started to power up. Her hands hadn't stopped shaking since she sat down, the left over adrenaline still pumping through her system. Everything from the moment she landed the winning shot, to walking back into her changing room was an absolute blur, and even with the roar of the crowd still ringing her ears, it still didn't feel quite real.

Clarke knew it _was_ though, and it wouldn't be long until she was back on the court collecting her trophy. Clarke's heart stuttered at the thought. The trophy she had _won._

Tears welled up in her eyes again.

“No.” Anya suddenly exclaimed, stepping back before Clarke had the chance to stand up.

Clarke furrowed her brow in confusion. “What?”

“You have that look in your eyes where you want physical contact.” Anya warily replied.

Clarke let out a shaky laugh. “It's called a _hug,_ Anya.”

The other woman glared at her, her arms crossing over her chest. “Yeah, well I can still feel that last _hug_ in my ribs.”

Clarke rolled her eyes, letting a comfortable silence settle between the three of them. It still felt like a dream. She had beaten Octavia Blake. She had beaten the odds on favourite.

“I can't believe I won.”

Indra smiled at her. “You should be proud of yourself, Clarke. What you've achieved over these past few months is the result of _your_ hard work.”

Her coach's words had Clarke's eyes brimming with even more tears. It wasn't often Indra complimented her. In fact, Clarke could probably count the occasions on one hand.

“She's right.” Anya relented, her features softening and arms uncrossing. “You should be proud of what you achieved today.”

The phone in Clarke's hand started to vibrate relentlessly as two weeks worth of notifications finally started streaming in. “Looks like I became popular over the past week, huh?” Clarke didn't miss the look Indra and Anya shared. “What?”

“You've gone viral.” Anya informed her.

Clarke mouth dropped open. “I've gone what?”

“Viral.” Indra repeated stoically.

It confirmed what Clarke thought Anya had said and she smiled. The wild card who triumphed at the US Open. Her name must have been everywhere. “Because I won?”

“Because Lexa couldn't stop looking at your boobs.” Anya replied, and Clarke felt her cheeks flush in response. In the bright sun of the previous days training session, Clarke was sure no one would spot the glances she kept throwing Lexa's way. She thought she had been discreet about checking her out, but apparently Anya had seen her all along.

Before she could work up any possible defence for her wandering gaze, the phone in Clarke's hand started vibrating again. She was more than relieved to see her mom's face smiling up at her.

“Mom, hey.”

There was a time not so long ago, when Clarke would have ignored her call. The rift that had formed between them after her dad died had slowly healed with time though. More so in the past year at Anya and Indra's subtle prompting. They would never be as close as Clarke had been with her father, but she knew her mom was trying.

“Clarke?” In the background, Clarke could hear the gentle sound of birdsong and not the bustling noise of the hospital she was expecting.

“Yeah,” she smiled. “It's me.”

“Oh sweetie,” her mom said softly. “Well done. I watched the whole thing, you played so well today.”

Clarke blinked in surprise. “You watched?”

Her mom let out a warm laugh. “Of course I watched, Clarke. I might be stuck in California, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to watch my only child play in the final of the US Open.”

The door to her changing room opened a crack and whoever was on the other side started relaying something to Indra.

“I know," Clarke mumbled. "It's just- I- I know you're _busy-_ ”

“Clarke.” The down right _motherly_ tone in her voice had Clarke snapping her mouth shut. “The hospital can spare me for a couple of hours to watch you.”

Even so, Clarke knew her mother's schedule was worked out for her weeks in advance. She was one of the best cardiac surgeons in the US, the demand for her services was unrelenting. For her to take even two hours away from the hospital in the middle of her working week would have meant rearranging her whole diary.

“It's time, Clarke.” Indra called and instantly, Clarke felt a nervous fluttering erupt in her stomach.

“I should let you go.” Her mom said. “You have a trophy to collect.”

“Will you be watching?” Clarke asked.

“I wouldn't miss it.” And from the warm tone of her mom's voice, Clarke knew she was telling the truth.

“I'll call you tonight?”

“I have a conference call until eight, but you can call me afterwards?” Her mom offered, and Clarke hummed her agreement. “And, Clarke?”

“Yeah?”

“Your father would have been proud of you.”

* * *

Clarke stared up into the bright lights of the stadium, her heart pounding as the crowd cheered around her. Both her and Octavia were out on the court again, both of them wearing their tracksuit bottoms and jackets to keep out the slowly chilling air.

Marcus Kane smiled at her kindly as he walked onto the court with Lexa just behind him. The sight of them both had the crowd hollering again, and Clarke could just make out the shouts of Lexa's name.

Flipping the button on his microphone, Marcus began the proceedings.

“Today, you have witnessed a quite frankly historic moment in our sport. But, first, let's hear from our finalist, Octavia Blake.” The crowd applauded again as the small brunette walked towards the centre of the court. “Octavia, I know this isn't quite the result that you wanted, but being here, in your third grand slam final this year, what did it mean for you to be here today?”

“You know, even though I didn't win today, I'm really pleased with my performance this year. To be in my third grand slam final, I think is definitely an indication of how good my game is at the moment. It's disappointing I didn't win, for sure, but Clarke was the better player today. She deserved the win.”

Clarke tried not to scowl at Octavia. Despite her kind words _now,_ Clarke had heard the brunette ranting through the walls of the changing rooms. She wasn't just disappointed Clarke had won. She was livid.

Lexa flipped on her own microphone. “You have the China Open coming up in a few weeks, what will you be taking from today's match to secure the win there?”

“I think I just need to keep focusing on my game, I've already shown this year that I have what it takes to win. But none of this would have been possible without my coach, Lincoln, and the whole team that supports me. With their help, I think a win in China is definitely something I can aim for and achieve.”

Clarke tried to focus on the rest of Octavia's interview, but all she could concentrate on was how sweaty her palms were becoming. It felt different to be out on the court without a racket in her hands. Just as her nerves were starting to make her heart palpitate, Lexa's green eyes met hers over Octavia's shoulder. An almost shy smile pulled at Lexa's lips and Clarke felt her face blushing. If Anya noticed her looking at Lexa, then maybe the brunette had spotted it too. It would explain her odd behaviour the day before.

Trying not to bring any more attention to herself, Clarke subtly returned the woman's smile. Her anxiety was still swirling in her stomach, but the sight of Lexa's calm expression helped placate her out of control heartbeat at least.

“We now present the finalists trophy to Octavia Blake.” Marcus announced, bringing Clarke's attention back to the presentation in front of her. From the way Lexa jumped, Clarke assumed her mind had begun to wander too.

Lexa took Octavia's hand in her own, shaking it before handing her the silver dish that commemorated her second place position. The crowd cheered when Octavia raised it into the air and moved back to the other side of the court.

“And now, our champion, Clarke Griffin!” Marcus said whilst gesturing towards her.

Her introduction set the crowd off into another loud burst of noise, but over the sound of her pounding heart, Clarke could barely hear them. As she made her way towards the center of the court, Marcus stepped out of the way and indicated to Lexa to take his position.

“Hi.” Lexa's microphone was still at her side, so Clarke could only just hear her over the noise around them. “You ready?”

“Not at all.” Clarke laughed nervously. The smile on Lexa's face grew, her eyes crinkling at the edges.

"You'll be fine, Clarke." Turing her attention back to the audience, Lexa lifted her microphone to her mouth. “Let's start with the obvious question, how are you feeling right now?”

“A, er, a little overwhelmed to be honest. I won! It's going to take a little while for that to sink in I think. I do want to wish Octavia all the best though, hopefully we'll meet again. It was a challenging match, I couldn't have asked for a better one.”

What Clarke didn't mention was how triumphant she felt the moment Octavia's focus had started slipping. For all her confidence and experience, the other player was still surprisingly easy to anger.

“Now, this was your first big competition of the year, how would you describe this season?” Lexa asked.

“It's been incredible. I've been playing in some of the smaller competitions, slowly working my way up to this level again and I'm really happy with how far I've come in the past few months. None of that would have been possible without the people I've had supporting me though. Thank you to my coaches, Indra Ashdown and Anya Forrester, without them, I really wouldn't be here on this court today. They both pushed me to be my best and I'm sure they'll continue to do so. Of course thank you to the rest of the team too, without you guys I'm pretty sure my limbs would have fallen off by now.” The crowd laughed in a low murmur. “And thanks to you guys too,” Clarke said as she looked around the stands. “I've heard your cheering, and your support, and it's just been the most incredible couple of weeks.”

“Well, it's been an absolute pleasure to watch you, Clarke.” Lexa announced and from the crowd, Clarke heard a loud wolf whistle. She was sure the brunette's cheeks lightly flushed in response. “And it's now my honour to present the US Opens champion trophy to you.”

Marcus stepped forwards as Lexa reached out to pick up the trophy. “Ladies and gentlemen. Your US Open champion. Clarke Griffin!”

The crowd went wild again as confetti exploded onto the court. The trophy was heavier than Clarke expected and she could feel her eyes misting up again.

Before she could start her circuit of the court, Lexa caught her arm. “Clarke. May we speak later?”

Lexa's face looked decidedly stoic, but there was a nervousness flicking to her eyes. “Yeah, sure.” Clarke smiled.

* * *

“What the hell!?” Clarke exclaimed. If she wasn't standing in the shattering cold of an ice bath, she was fairly sure her body would have been burning with embarrassment.

“You've seen the news then.” Anya said from her seat on the bench opposite her. “Two more minutes by the way.”

Clarke's body shook again. Ice baths were possibly the worst part of Indra's post match routine. Scrolling down her twitter feed was meant to be providing a welcome distraction from it.

“I- What- Lexa Woods- She looked at my boobs.”

“You're romanticising it, she stared at them.” Anya cocked her head slightly. “Multiple times.”

“But- I thought-” Clarke cut herself off. There really was no need for Anya to know she had mistakenly thought the other woman was mocking _her_ for staring at Lexa. Not when she had successfully managed to hide her own leching. Lexa on the other hand had done absolutely nothing to hide it.

Clarke stared back down at the gif that was looping on her phone. It was a split screen taken from her semi final match. One half had her jumping, the other had Lexa's head following the movement. The pressure from the final must have been more overwhelming than Clarke had realised, because how had she missed _that_ look on Lexa's face.

“Lexa Woods looked at my boobs.” Clarke muttered again as she started scrolling through her feed again. The player she had looked up to for most her career. The player a younger Clarke Griffin had crushed on. “There's like, thousands of- What? Okay, I did _not_ do that with her!” The freezing water sloshed around her body.

Anya looked concerned for a moment. “What?”

Clarke turned her phone around and Anya burst out laughing. The photo on her screen looked like her and Lexa, but she was sure she would remember Lexa sucking on her nipple.

“It's just a manip. Look there's more.” Anya reached out to flick her finger down the screen.

Clarke furrowed her brow at the new photo. “Who the hell is the kid!?”

“Yours and Lexa's child apparently. She must really like you. When are you moving in together?”

Clarke squinted her eyes. “Oh, oh I get it.”

“Hmmm?” Anya hummed whilst continuing to flick through the timeline on Clarke's phone.

“You invited her to watch me train without telling her I didn't know.” Clarke accused.

Anya shrugged. “She never asked. Times up.”

Clarke sighed in relief. Ice baths really were the worst.

Anya held out a towel for her, and Clarke quickly wrapped it around her body. The hot tub wasn't that far away and Clarke smiled at the thought of the warm water enveloping her still chilled body. It was the final part of her post match routine, but unlike every other match she played, she wouldn't be going straight back to the hotel. The press was already gathering in anticipation of her first press conference, but after that-

“Lexa wants to talk to me later.” Clarke said thoughtfully. Anya arched her eyebrow and held the door open for her. "She asked me on the court, but you know, Lexa doesn't have to know that _I_ know yet.”

From the smirk on Anya's face, Clarke knew she had cottoned on to what she was suggesting. “Well, maybe you would like to borrow one of my tops for your meeting with her. My clothes are nicer after all.”

“It's a shame they might be a bit small for me though," Clarke sighed dramatically. "You should probably let me borrow one of your low cut ones so I don't stretch the material too much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The presentation ceremony wasn't 100% accurate, Lexa wouldn't be the one to give out the trophy! It would be someone in a suit, but just go with it because now Clarke knows, our favourite former tennis champion hasn't got long left to live.


	5. Red Handed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter ahoy.

“ _You're acting like a coward, Lexa. Tennis is your life, no matter how hard you try and pretend it isn't. Now pick up the phone and say yes to the damn commentary job.”_

Lexa could feel her jaw grinding as she paced Anya's hotel room. It hadn't taken long for her to convince her former doubles partner to lend her the space so her and Clarke could have some privacy. The stadium was swarming with press, leaving the only two other alternatives as her own room in the hotel five blocks away, or worse, Clarke's room. Lexa shivered at the thought.

The television in the corner of the room was louder than Lexa would usually have it, but she wanted to hear every word of Clarke's press conference. Every time the blonde finished answering a question, Lexa couldn't help freezing on the spot and waiting anxiously for the next to be asked. Each time she found herself letting out a sigh of relief as the reporters stuck to the topic of Clarke winning the Open.

Despite her nervous fretting and pacing, Lexa _had_ been watching. Clarke was doing astoundingly well at handling the press. Every question was answered perfectly with the right amount of humility and acceptance for her exceptional performance. She continued to praise Octavia's performance throughout too, and if the rumours Lexa had heard about the other player were true, then she knew it must have been driving Octavia insane to hear Clarke being so _nice_ about her. It would make slating the blonde in her own interviews without seeming like a bitter loser impossible. Just like their match, Clarke had worked the Octavia into a corner.

Lexa had quickly decided the public, and all of Clarke's new fans were going to love her. At the thought, Lexa stopped her pacing to gaze at the screen. With her bright smile and shining blonde hair combined with her raspy voice and intelligent words, Clarke was-

“Is there any truth to the rumours about you and Lexa Woods?”

Lexa was sure her heart had just stopped.

She watched Clarke visibly bristle at the question before drawing back from the microphone. There was a pause as Clarke regarded the man who had just spoken. “Are you seriously asking me about my personal life? At a press conference we're holding because I've just won the US Open?” She finally asked, her voice solid and unwavering.

“If you could answer the-”

“Yeah, sure, mind your own business.” Clarke cut across him, her eyes narrowing into what Lexa thought might have been a glare. “Next-”

Lexa quickly scrambled for the remote and hit rewind until it was back to the beginning of the question. If her apology to Clarke was going to be a success, she had to try and figure out exactly how the other woman was feeling.

“- rumours about you and Lexa Woods?”

Lexa stepped closer to the screen and squinted. There was definitely a furrow in Clarke's brow. Clicking on the remote, Lexa rewound for a few seconds before hitting play again.

Shocked. That was Clarke's first reaction. Lexa went back again just to be sure, leaning even closer to make sure her analysis was right. Why was Clarke shocked though? Was it just the fact the journalist had asked the question? Or was it the surprising content that she had no idea about yet?

Not wanting Clarke's voice to distract her, Lexa muted the television.

The blonde looked angry when she answered, her blue eyes practically glaring at the journalist. At least it looked like a glare. Lexa rewound once more whilst cursing the inadequacy of the screen quality. It was a top class hotel, surely every room should have a high definition screen and not the grainy excuse for standard definition she was currently trying to analyse.

Squatting down as far as her left leg would allow, Lexa shuffled as close as possible. When the footage played again, she tried paying closer attention to the little line on the Clarke's forehead that apparently dictated her mood. It was inconclusive. Sighing in frustration, Lexa replayed the whole thing, but this time, when Clarke had just finished answering, Lexa quickly hit pause, intent on analysing just how angry she was. At least, that had been the plan.

Lexa blinked in surprise at the image in front of her. The feed on the screen had apparently rolled on further than before. The camera angel had changed, and Lexa would recognise the sight in front of her from anywhere. She had unintentionally and shamefully been staring at it for the past few days.

Clarke's breasts truly were a blessing. As was the top she was wearing. The new zoomed in camera angel only highlighted both.

“Am I interrupting?” Clarke's raspy voice called from behind her.

Lexa startled, her body swaying precariously. What unfolded next was a series of events she could only describe as unfortunate.

In her rush to stand upright, she completely forgot her left legs inability to hold her body weight so suddenly. In fact, it was only when she lurched forwards instead of up that she finally remembered.

Lexa grunted when her face made contact with the frozen image of Clarke's cleavage, her nose crunching painfully. It truly wasn't how she'd daydreamed her first encounter with the blonde's breasts feeling.

She wasn't sure what happened next, but when Lexa opened her eyes she was on her back and Clarke's chest was right in front of her again.

“You okay?” Clarke asked gently.

Lexa gulped, blinking her dazed eyes away. “Hurts.”

Clarke smiled and held out her hands for Lexa to hold onto. Carefully, the blonde helped her sit upright. “Easy, your nose is bleeding.”

Bringing her hand up, Lexa winced at the wetness she felt there. This wasn't the best start to her apology.

It was as Lexa watched Clarke rummaging through the backpack on Anya's bed that something seemed to click in her mind. Clarke was there. Clarke who had just two minutes ago been speaking to the press.

Lexa cocked her head. “Clarke?”

“Yeah?” She asked over her shoulder.

“Why are you here?”

The blonde paused and turned around. “You wanted to talk to me?”

“But you were giving a press conference...”

“It's on a delay. I finished ten minutes ago.” Clarke replied before beginning her rummaging again.

Using the wall, Lexa pushed herself to her feet. Her leg would ache in the morning, and she could already tell her face was going to bruise. With a grunt, Lexa dropped down onto the bed, holding the bridge of her nose to stop the trickle of blood that was still dripping out.

“Here you go,” Clarke handed her a pack of tissue. “I don't think its broken, but you need ice, lots of ice.”

Lexa zoned out as Clarke ordered the ice and clean towels from Anya's phone. The remote was nowhere to be seen, and in her haste to get off the floor she hadn't thought to the turn the screen off. The frozen image she'd just been caught staring at was still being projected right at her. This was exactly why she avoided apologising.

“They'll be a up in a few minutes.” Clarke explained before bending down in front of her. Carefully, Clarke pulled the tissue away from Lexa's nose, making a satisfied noise in the back of her throat. Lexa barely stopped herself letting out a groan at the sound. “Looks like it stopped. Now. Do I even want to know what you were doing?”

Lexa would have been able to answer if Clarke hadn't moved her hands away from her face. The effect was devastating. Lexa blinked rapidly and tried to stop her eyes from darting downwards, only for her resolve to crumble in seconds. The grainy television screen really hadn't done them justice.

“Lexa?”

It could have been Lexa's imagination, but she could swear Clarke's lips were twitching in amusement.

“I was just keeping abreast of the latest news.” Lexa said before wincing at her own choice of words. She watched Clarke's eyes glance behind her at the still frozen image of herself. “That- that really wasn't what it looked like.” She tried to explain.

Clarke finally seemed take pity on her and moved to sit beside her instead. “Did you hear the question that asshole asked?” Clarke asked.

This was it. The moment Lexa had been preparing for. “Yes.” She replied, balling her hands into fists, ready to take on Clarke's rightful anger at her behaviour.

“You come to one training session and he thinks something's going on.”

“What?” Lexa asked in disbelief.

“The reporter. I have no idea how they even knew you'd come down anyway. It's ridiculous, just because you're a 'celebrity' they think they can follow you around, and ask whatever questions they want-” Clarke continued to rant, her brow becoming more and more creased as she became more and more animated in her gripes on privacy in the modern age.

Lexa's mouth dropped open in shock. It was impossible. There was no way Clarke didn't know. “Clarke,” Lexa interrupted tentatively. “Have you... Have you seen twitter yet?”

“Nope, Anya hasn't given me my phone back.” Lexa was going to murder her former tennis partner. “Why? What happened? Has he already started kicking off because I swear-”

Most of her apology had been hanging on Clarke unloading all her anger at her. Lexa hadn't planned to actually _explain_ what had happened.

“Perhaps I should call Anya, and ask her to bring your phone?” Lexa offered, cutting Clarke off once again. “So you can talk to your family.”

“Does this have anything to do with what was happening between you and Anya on the court yesterday?”

_Yes._

“No, not at all.” Lexa lied.

“No?” Clarke questioned, a single eyebrow rising in show of her disbelief.

Lexa was about to start digging herself into a deeper hole of lies when a ringtone she knew didn't belong to her own phone started blaring out from beside to her. Clarke suddenly looked incredibly sheepish.

Lexa squinted her eyes and the woman beside her. “Is that... Is that your _phone_?”

Instead of answering her, Clarke reached into her pocket and pulled out the still ringing device. “Hey, mom.” She greeted. “Yep, uh huh.” There was a pause from the blonde. “Er, yeah I am. Call you tomorrow? Yeah, tell Raven she can call whenever. Yeah, I love you too.”

Clarke pulled the phone away from her ear, her gaze not returning to Lexa.

“That's your phone.” Lexa pointed out. Clarke hummed and twirled the device in her fingers. “You _know_.”

“About boob-gate?” Clarke asked, the question making Lexa wince.

“They've given it a name?”

“ _I've_ given it a name.” Clarke replied.

Lexa's back straightened and her hands folded on her lap at the reprimand. “Right, of course.”

An awkward silence descended between them. Lexa took the time to scan her eyes across the room for the remote again. Anya was never going to let her live it down if she found a frozen close up of Clarke on her television when she returned.

“That reporter's still an asshole though.” Clarke suddenly said.

“You handled him well.” Lexa commented quickly, not wanting the oppressing quiet to return.

Clarke looked unsure of herself for a moment, her teeth worrying at her lip. “I thought I was too harsh-”

In Lexa's opinion, Clarke had dealt with the whole press conference more professionally than half the more seasoned players ever did, and she refused to let the blonde believe anything different for even a second.

“You have to draw the line early or they won't know where to stop. You handled the whole press conference remarkably well.” Lexa pushed again, hoping her words would stick. “Plus, he was an asshole.”

It was barely there, but Lexa was sure she caught sight of the light pink spreading across Clarke's cheeks. “Thanks.”

“He wasn't the only one who was an asshole though.” Lexa said, taking a breath to prepare herself for what she needed to do next. “I would like to apologise to you, Clarke Griffin. My actions were inappropriate and unbefitting of a professional commentator.”

Clarke looked at her curiously. “Do you always use full names when apologising?”

Lexa coughed, looking away from the sparkling blue of Clarke's eyes. “I don't usually make a habit of apologising at all.”

“So what makes me different?”

The question was a loaded one. Lexa didn't want to tell Clarke that from the moment she saw her on the court, she had felt a pull towards her. That was something to save for the sappy romance novel she could write based on her quickly growing feelings for the woman. There was something in the way Clarke played that excited Lexa in a way that wasn't just physical.

There had only been one other woman who had made her feel the way Clarke was making her feel.

Costia had been her first and only love. They had met during Lexa's first reluctant summer abroad at tennis camp. Lexa didn't want to play tennis and she didn't want to follow in her parents footsteps and become a tennis star. All young Lexa wanted to do was study for the model UN her school was participating in. Unfortunately, despite her multiple protests, thirteen year old Lexa had no choice but to go to France at her parents behest.

It was where Lexa met Anya and formed a life long friendship. But more importantly, it had been where she met Costia Cortez. That summer had ended up being an awakening in more than one way. She had learnt her lack of love for boys wasn't because she was broken, but because girls like Costia were far more interesting. She also learnt that tennis wasn't just a sport her parents were forcing her to play. It was a sport she loved too.

Unfortunately, whilst France had kindled Lexa's love for tennis, Costia's dislike had only continued to grow. The first few years were fine. Both Lexa and Costia moved up the ladder until they were playing professionally. Costia's dislike had festered though, until one day she decided to quit the sport altogether.

They had broken up not long after. Despite Costia's pleas for Lexa to leave the sport behind too, Lexa had chosen to continue her rise to the top instead. The last Lexa had heard, her first love was married and opening her own nursery with her new wife.

There was little resemblance between Clarke and Costia though. Not in appearance nor in the way they played. The feeling however, _that_ was very much the same.

Still, to confess something like that so early, and without any suggestion that Clarke might return her feelings was too risky.

“You're an exceptional tennis player, Clarke. You deserved more than my wandering gaze.” Lexa said instead and Clarke seemed to accept her answer, nodding slowly at her words.

“They call us Clexa you know? Clarke and Lexa, Clexa. It's cute.” The last part had a small spark of hope igniting within her. Clarke wasn't completely repulsed by the idea at least. “Not sure I understand the whole Advantage Clexa thing is about though.”

Lexa had seen the hashtag and read tens of the posts with increasing horror. “During the second set, I might have become slightly... _Enthusiastic_ when you were caught in deuce.”

Clarke grinned at the revelation. “I always thought you were super calm and collected.”

“I am-” Lexa stopped abruptly, her eyes fixed on Clarke's hand as she slowly ran her finger under the hem of her top. Little goose bumps seemed to appear under the digit and without meaning to, Lexa shuffled closer to the blonde.

“Calm and collected, huh?” Clarke's voice broke through Lexa's reverie making her eyes snap up again.

“I would like to make you an offer.” Lexa continued quickly, ignoring the amused grin on Clarke's face.

The blonde tilted her head. “An offer?”

“Let me help you improve your serve.”

“You're sure you can manage that?” Clarke asked whist nodded towards the image that was _still_ mocking Lexa from the television.

“You are- You are very beautiful, Clarke, but you are also extraordinarily talented. Let me help you. Think of it as an apology for my behaviour.”

Clarke's face became completely serious, her brow furrowing tightly. “Is this an excuse to see me in a sports bra again?”

Lexa felt the colour drain from her face. “I would never- Clarke- I-”

Laughter erupted from the blonde. “Your face, you do a great impression of a kicked puppy.” Clarke leaned back on her hands, a smile still etched across her features. “This has been the most surreal 24 hours. I can't believe Lexa Woods was caught looking at my boobs.”

Lexa winced at the reminder. “If there's anything else I can do to make it up to you-”

“Lexa. It's fine. It's- Actually it's quite flattering.”

What Lexa had done was a lot of things, but she would hardly call it flattering. “I objectified you. On national television.”

“I know. I can't believe you liked the puppies that much.” Clarke squished her arms together and Lexa choked on absolutely nothing. “Has anyone mentioned how very gay you are?”

Ignoring Clarke's mockery, Lexa frowned at the top the blonde was wearing. She was certain she had seen it before. “Is that Anya's top?”

“Yeah.” Clarke pulled at the edge of the top until it settled slightly lower. “Do you like it?”

Lexa swallowed harshly. “The colour matches your eyes.”

“Right, that's what you keep staring at.”

“I was staring because I thought I recognised it.” Lexa defended weakly. Without saying a word, Clarke raised her eyebrow until Lexa relented. “You wore that top on purpose.” She muttered.

“I'm entitled to a little bit of revenge.” Clarke shrugged. “I still don't accept your apology though.” She teased, her smile giving away the lack of malice the words held. It felt an awful lot like flirting.

“And what would I have to do for you to accept it?” Lexa asked.

Clarke hummed loudly, her eyes squinting as she thought over her options. “Impress me.” She finally settled with.

An idea struck Lexa. One that if she had read the situation wrong with Clarke, could end in an even bigger embarrassing disaster than falling into a television screen. “What if I invited to tomorrow's closing party? Would you consider accepting it then?” She asked tentatively.

Clarke sat up straight again and knocked her shoulder into Lexa's. “You know, as the winner, they have actually already invited me this time.”

“Well,” Lexa gently cleared her throat. “I would very much like to take you as my date.”

Clarke seemed to mull over her words for a few moments, her lip catching between her teeth again. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Lexa said, taken aback by how quickly the blonde had agreed.

Clarke smirked and Lexa had to restrain her need to gulp. “Yeah, I can't wait for you to see me in a dress.”

This was a part of the plan Lexa had not thought through. Clarke clearly wasn't finished destroying her heart yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments on the last chapter :D  
> Things are a little busy at home atm, mother dearest just had shoulder surgery, so I haven't had as much time to properly concentrate on writing as usual. She's been doing a little better these past few days, so hopefully I'll be able to get back into the usual routine now. If I don't post next weekend, then the next chapter probably won't be posted until a couple of weeks after Clexacon :)


	6. The Commander

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it out of Vegas alive and with a lot of new friends. Awesome <3

“ _Finn, I can't keep doing this with you. It's not fair on either of us.”_

“Did I say congratulations?” Lexa said, her voice muffled by the towel she was holding against her face.

Clarke frowned as she tried to remember everything that had happened in the blur of the last few hours. “I don't think you did.”

“I meant to say it before-” Lexa gestured vaguely at her face. “This happened.”

Both of them were still sat on Anya's bed as Lexa iced her nose. The redness on her face had slowly been getting darker as they waited for the room service to arrive and Clarke could tell it was going to bruise.

“You know it doesn't look too bad.” After a subtle glare in Clarke's direction, Lexa lowered the towel. The red patch where her nose had clearly made contact with the television screen was even darker than before. “Just keep that ice on it.” Clarke quickly encouraged as she pushed Lexa's hand back towards her face.

Clarke almost hadn't believed the tweets. Not even the ones with videos attached had been enough to convince her that _the_ Lexa Woods could be quite so flustered about her.

It had only taken five seconds of being alone with her in Anya's hotel room for Clarke to realise how wrong she was.

Lexa had seemed genuinely distressed though. As they waited for the ice to arrive, she had apologised twice more for looking at Clarke the way she had. It was sweet, and Clarke knew that really she _should_ have been more annoyed with Lexa, yet... She couldn't quite find it within herself to be angry with her.

The sound of Anya's hotel room door opening had both of them sitting bolt upright.

“If you're having sex in my room, I'll kill you both-” Anya froze in the doorway, her eyes narrowing. From her seat on the bed, Clarke watched her coach study the scene in her hotel room, her brow creasing further and further with every passing moment.

Anya shut the door behind her before glaring at them both. “This is unexpected.”

“Lexa had a bit of an accident.” Clarke revealed, smirking at the visible flush on Lexa's cheeks.

Anya raised her eyebrow. “I can see.”

“Lessons have been learnt.” Lexa said flatly. At her response, Anya strode across the room and pulled the towel away from her face.

Clarke wasn't expecting Anya's features to darken at the sight of Lexa's slowly bruising nose. “Clarke, I need you to tell me if you did this to her.”

Clarke spluttered. “I didn't hit her!”

“My leg just gave way. Clarke didn't do anything.” Lexa quickly intervened as well.

Rather than placating Anya, Lexa's response just made her frown deepen. “How often?”

“Anya-”

Anya's frown turned into a glower. “How often is your leg giving way, Lexa? Have you even told your doctor?”

The red flush on Lexa's cheeks darkened even further. “Give way may have been the wrong term. I stood up too quickly, I was distracted and forgot to take it slow.” She muttered.

Anya's demeanour relaxed again as she smirked at Lexa's confession. “Distracted, huh?”

“I should go.” Lexa quickly dropped the towel onto the bed. “I'm commentating on the Men's final tomorrow.” With a quiet groan, Lexa rose from the bed, her hand rubbing at her knee. “I'll text you in the morning, Clarke. Have a good evening.” She said hurriedly.

“Goodnight, Lexa.” Clarke replied, her hand rising to wave.

“Try and get their names right this time, Commander.” Anya teased.

Lexa didn't spare either of them another glance as she practically scurried out of the room. Clarke bit her lip at the sight of Lexa's retreating form. The jeans she was wearing really did wonders for her.

The moment Lexa pulled the door shut, Anya glared down at Clarke. “So what really happened?”

“I didn't hit her. You know I wouldn't do that.”

Anya nodded before sitting beside her. “And you know I would leave your team if you did, right? Regardless of whether it was Lexa or not.”

“Yeah, I would be disappointed in you if you didn't.” Clarke smiled, knocking her shoulder into Anya's. “I caught her looking at my boobs on the TV screen, then she fell into it.”

Anya's laugh bellowed around the room.

Clarke watched her coach trying to control herself, a grin appearing on her own face as Anya's laughing continued. Tears were starting to appear in the corners of Anya's eyes by the time she pulled herself together enough to sit upright again.

“I almost wish I'd set a camera up now.” Anya commented breathlessly.

Clarke titled her head. “Oh? And what if we _had_ ended up having sex?”

“I'd give you the sex tape as a wedding present.”

Clarke glared at her coach, but she knew Anya could see the amused twitching at the corner of her mouth. “She did manage to ask me on a date though. She's quite suave when she's not distracted by the girls.” Clarke shifted her top again. Even to her own eyes they looked fantastic in the borrowed clothing. “I should invest in tighter tops.”

“Not if you want your girlfriend to function around you.”

“Not my girlfriend.” Clarke said pointedly. “Well. Not yet.”

Considering the chemistry Clarke had felt between them, she was surprised Anya had waited so long before introducing them. She knew her coach spoke to Lexa often, but it seemed odd that she had never mention Clarke to her. “Why didn't you introduce us sooner?”

Anya was quiet for a moment. “I've know Lexa since we were children, I even mentored her for a time back in France. I knew she would like you, but I wasn't sure you were ready.”

“Ready?”

Anya sighed, her shoulders sinking. “My job is to make sure you improve your performance on the court. You were already distracted by the death of your father and Wells,” Clarke felt her heart contract painfully at the casual mention of their deaths, “and you'd just broken up with Collins. I was worried Lexa might distract you.”

Clarke bristled at the implication of what Anya was suggesting. “So what? This is an experiment?”

Anya placed her hand on Clarke's knee, squeezing gently. “No. I just think you're ready to separate what happens on the court and in your personal life.”

Biting at her lip, Clarke looked away from her coach. She had been so busy preparing for the tournament, she hadn't even thought about if she was ready to be in a relationship again.

“Isn't that something I should decide?”

“Clarke. If you're _not_ ready, you don't have to rush into this. It's your life you decide the pace of it, not me, not Indra, not Raven.” Anya tapped on Clarke's leg again before standing up and walking to the mini fridge in the corner of her room. “You're being too depressing. You just won the US Open, we're getting you wasted on this over priced mini bar.”

* * *

The day following her victory had been just a big a blur to Clarke as the evening before.

Indra had spent the morning taking her through her performance against Octavia, picking apart her play and what they would be focusing on before she left for the China Open. Then it had been the endless press interviews. Clarke had never really appreciated just how _many_ publications and networks were covering the event.

It all led to her hurrying about her room with only an hour to spare as she desperately tried to get ready for the network party she had been invited to. The dress she had chosen was a simple black one, with a slit that travelled up to her mid thigh. The neck line was her favourite part though. It plunged just enough to remain tasteful, but the swell of her chest was unmissable.

Lexa was going to love it.

Clarke looked around the bustling hotel lobby, straining her neck to try and spot Anya or Indra in the gathering crowds. Every player that was staying at the hotel was crammed into the space as they waited for their respective cars to pick them up. More than one of them had stopped her during her search to congratulate her on her victory. Some of them were old faces she hadn't spoken to in years. Others were younger and just starting out in their quest to become a tennis great.

Clarke wasn't sure how she felt about the attention yet.

Anya had kept her holed up in her hotel room all night, drinking their way through the mini bar as they trawled through her social media mentions, but Clarke still couldn't get her head around how popular she had suddenly become.

“You're late.” Anya's bored voice had Clarke rolling her eyes.

“I was here before you.”

Turning around, Clarke smiled at Anya's choice in dress. The high neck and tight fit looked amazing on her. The deep red colour of her dress matched perfectly with the heels that adorned her feet too.

“Hngh, you scrub up well. Here.” Anya pushed her phone into Clarke's hand. “Raven wants a photo.”

Without waiting for Clarke's response, Anya raised her arm until she was leaning in what Clarke assumed was meant to be a seductive pose against the marble pillar.

“Classy.” She commented as she took the photo. “How are things between you anyway?”

Anya snatched the phone back out of Clarke's hand and hummed at the picture on the screen, apparently content that it was up to her standards. “Don't be jealous that I stole your friend, Griffin.” The phone in Anya's hand suddenly flashed directly at Clarke. “Raven wanted a photo of you too.”

“That photo's going to look terrible.”

Anya shrugged and continued to look at her phone. “Your ability to look attractive at most angles and under bad lighting conditions is an unfortunate side effect of your face.”

It was probably the worst compliment Clarke had ever heard. “I'm not sure I should be saying thank you.”

Anya just grunted at her in response as she started tapping away on her phone screen.

“Ah, you are both ready I see.” Indra called from behind them. “The car's here.”

Clarke didn't think it was possible, but the white material of Indra's dress only seemed to highlight the powerful muscles of her arms even more.

“Wow.” Clarke said as they stepped out into the cool night air. “Did anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are coach?”

Indra shook her head. “You can compliment me all you wish, Clarke, but you'll still be training first thing Monday.”

“I wasn't trying to get out of training,” Clarke muttered as they approached the vehicle. “Just maybe starting an hour later.”

“I suppose the champion can be allowed one lie in.” Indra relented before ducking into the car. A smile broke out across Clarke's face and she followed her coach inside. “But we're doing shuttle runs.”

* * *

The bright flashes of the camera's almost had Clarke stumbling back into the car. “Whoa.”

“ _Clarke! Clarke over here! Clarke! Anya!”_

“You two entertain the paparazzi, I need a brandy.” Indra said dryly before walking straight past the pack of photographers without so much as a second glance.

“Clarke!” One of the photographers called. “Pull your dress down a bit, princess!”

Clarke recognised the voice that called out next. “You!”

There were still patches of colour drifting across Clarke's vision, but as she squinted her eyes to the front of the hotel, she spotted Lexa. Clarke barely stopped herself from gulping at the sight of her.

The thin straps of Lexa's emerald green dress only served to highlight the subtle curves of her collar bone. Whilst the cut at the front of the dress didn't plunge as much as Clarke's, it still revealed the barest hint of cleavage. The whole dress followed Lexa's figure, hugging tightly against the swell of her hips before the long material flowed over her legs.

The moment she started walking towards them almost had Clarke's knees buckling.

The right hand side of the dress was split almost half way up Lexa's thigh, giving her leg the perfect amount of space to slip through with every step.

“Tell me.” Lexa seethed to someone in the crowd. “How fast can you run, little man?”

“I'm sorry.” A voice quickly apologised.

“Give me your credentials.” Lexa ordered. Clarke couldn't hear how the man replied, but from the darkening of Lexa's features, she knew it wasn't the answer the brunette wanted. “It wasn't a question. Give me your credential, now.”

Barely a moment later, a hand stuck out through the crowd and Lexa snatched a card from it.

“I don't expect to see you again-” Lexa looked down at the card. “ _Quint.”_

Clarke felt a shiver travel down the length of her spine. She had seen the “Commander” on the old videos of Lexa playing. There was something about the way Lexa held her shoulders and jutted her chin out that set her apart from her usual self.

Something Clarke was suddenly realising she liked.

A lot.

“Am I making myself clear?” Lexa pushed.

“Time to stop your date from murdering someone.” Anya muttered.

Clarke nodded dumbly, her gaze still transfixed on the way Lexa's jaw was tensing as she waited for Quint's answer.

“Lexa!” Anya called.

The sound of her own name being called broke Lexa's glare away from the photographers. “Anya. Clarke.” She greeted before coughing awkwardly. Lexa's whole body visibly relaxed. “We should go inside.”

“You sure you don't want to fight anyone first, Lex?” Despite the smile on Anya's face, Clarke could see the tight grip her coach had on Lexa's arm as she started to lead her back into the hotel.

Clarke quickly followed behind them, keeping her head ducked down as she passed the still reeling photographers.

“God, I need a whiskey.” Anya complained once they were in the safety of the hotel lobby. “You two kids do your thing.” Without waiting for either of them to respond, Anya marched on ahead of them.

“Good evening, Clarke.” Lexa's voice sounded remarkably calm considering the scene they had just walked away from.

Clarke on the other hand, felt like she was still having a melt down. “Wow.” She couldn't remember a time when she had been quite so speechless.

The barest hit of a smile tugged at the corner of Lexa's mouth. “I could say the same.” She said, before her eyes darted down to the front of Clarke's dress, her cheeks quickly reddening. As if catching herself, Lexa snapped her head up and held out her arm. “Should we go in?”

Clarke didn't hesitate to hook her arm around Lexa's. As subtly as possible, Clarke let her fingers brush across the muscles of Lexa's forearm. Even though she didn't play professionally any more, Clarke could still feel the power in the strong muscles that were hiding there.

“You know, I was expecting more of a reaction.” Clarke commented as they walked into the main ballroom.

Lexa kept her eyes trained forwards. “Hmm.”

Clarke frowned. “There's something you're not telling me.”

“I had Anya send me a picture so I could prepare.”

“She told me that was for Raven.”

“I dropped my phone if it's any consolation.” Lexa admitted.

Clarke grinned at Lexa's confession and squeezed her arm. “Just wait until I send you photo's I've actually posed for.” It was well concealed, but Clarke still caught the slight stumble in Lexa's step.

Lexa led Clarke towards an empty high table near the bar and for the first time, Clarke caught sight of the swelling that was just visible under Lexa's foundation. Her makeup team had done a good job of covering it during Lexa's commentating earlier in the day, and Clarke suspected she had taken advantage of their expertise to cover it again for her night out.

“Champagne?” Clarke offered as one of the waiters who were circling the room approached them.

“No, thank you. I can't drink.”

“Oh.” Clarke was about to place her glass back on the tray when Lexa cautiously pulled on her arm.

“That doesn't mean you can't, Clarke.”

“You're sure?” Clarke asked, her brow creasing in concern. “I mean, my friend Jasper is an addict, and he can't even-”

“I'm not an addict!” Lexa's face blushed as she reached out for an orange juice on a passing tray. “I had to take some painkillers, I can't drink afterwards.” She explained.

“Oh.” Clarke nodded in understanding before taking a sip from her glass. It was only when the sparkling drink met her lips that she realised exactly why Lexa would have taken them. “Oh! Because of yesterday?”

Lexa didn't have to answer, the expression on her face was enough to tell Clarke she was right.

“Shit. I really don't know the power of my own boobs sometimes.” A bright smile stretched across Lexa's face, and instantly the guilty feeling bubbling in Clarke's stomach calmed itself. “Seriously though, you're okay right?”

“The heat was making it swell up, I probably would have taken them before tonight regardless.”

“Still. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sneak up on you half way through... Whatever it was you were doing.”

Lexa coughed awkwardly before taking a hurried sip from her juice. “The past is in the past, Clarke. There's no point dwelling on it.”

Clarke couldn't help the laugh that escaped at Lexa's dismissal. For someone who could make a grown man grovel, Lexa was awfully easy to fluster.

“Talking of the past, Anya mentioned that you never wanted to play tennis.”

During their drinking session the night before, Clarke had probed Anya for every bit of information she could on Lexa and her coach had been happy to provide it.

Lexa smiled before taking another sip from her juice. “When I was a child, I wanted to be a lawyer, not a tennis player.”

“That was your great childhood ambition? Become a lawyer?”

Lexa nodded. “When I was eight, yes. By the age of twelve I wanted to work for the UN.”

A gentle laugh slipped past Clarke's lips at Lexa's confession. “Little Lexa sounds a little serious.”

“Grown up Lexa is too.” She pouted, giving a sharp nod.

“I just wanted to be a vet. It was my dad who got me playing tennis.” Clarke smiled fondly at the memories of him teaching her how to play. There was something about the sincere look of interest on Lexa's face that made Clarke want to open up. Swallowing back the lump in her throat, Clarke continued. “He died a few years ago, but he was the one who pushed me to go pro.”

Lexa nodded in understanding. “You carried on after he passed away.”

“Yeah. Not very well. Part of it was a 'fuck you' to my mom. Me playing tennis used to drive her insane.”

Lexa's brow creased as she regarded Clarke curiously. “Used to?”

“She wanted me to be a doctor, so she refused to even watch me play for a while. Things are better between us now. I can't imagine your mom was the same?”

Lexa seemed to pick up Clarke's desire to have the focus of conversation taken away from her. “My parents were the opposite.” She smiled. “They had to be front a centre at _every_ game.”

“The great Rhea and Tobias Woods.” Clarke said. If Clarke had grown up living under a rock, she had no doubt she still would have heard about them. The pair of them had dominated the singles and double circuit for almost ten years, winning grand slam after grand slam. She could only imagine the weight of expectation Lexa had to bear growing up. “That must have been a lot of pressure.”

“You learn to overcome it.”

“How?”

Lexa looked thoughtful for a moment. “For a while, I concentrated on nothing but tennis. My coach agreed that having a relationship or even having close friendships would just weaken my game. It helped me focus.”

Clarke scrunched up her face. Even in her darkest moments, she had never quite been able to shut everyone out. Looking back on it, she knew it was stupid for her to have even tried. To have someone actively encourage it though?

“Your coach sounds like ass.”

Lexa laughed, her head tipping back slightly as her eyes closed. Even after her laughter died down, there was still a smile stretched across her face. “Titus's methods were effective, but it was difficult to be proud of my achievements when there was no on there to share them with.”

“No one?” Clarke asked in disbelief. Stepping back, she let her eyes trail over Lexa's body. “I find it hard to believe you were single for your whole career, Lexa.”

“I had a girlfriend when I started out. Costia was my childhood tennis sweetheart. She didn't want to live the tennis life though.” Lexa stated with a shrug.

Clarke grimaced. “That must have been rough.”

“It was a long time ago.”

The conversation continued to flow easily between them. Even when Anya and Indra popped to their table between their own conversations, Lexa stayed practically glued to Clarke's side.

“For someone who's been playing in the sun, you are remarkably pale.” Lexa noted, her hand not so discretely tracing the skin of Clarke's arm. The twitch her muscle gave was out of her control, but Lexa's eyes seemed to darken at the feel of it.

The touches had been happening a lot. A light graze of the hand, a subtle stoke of the arm, all of them completely electrifying.

“It's lucky I remembered sun lotion the other day, I took this...” Clarke trailed off as she searched her phone for the photo she was looking for. The image that stared back at her made her wince. She was standing in front of her hotel mirror wearing just her bra and shorts. It would have looked great if it wasn't for the bright red band of sunburnt skin that wrapped around her middle. “Here, I took this is Australia a couple of years ago.”

Lexa took the phone from Clarke's hand and Clarke heard her sharp inhale.

“I can't tan. I go red then back again.” She explained. Lexa didn't seem to be listening though and Clarke watched as her glass slowly started tipping forwards. “Lex-”

Clarke tried to warn her, but it was too late. The orange juice quickly sloshed over the side as the it slipped from Lexa's grip. Clarke tried to step back, but the liquid was already spilling against her stomach.

It was the glass smashing against the floor that finally broke Lexa out of her stupor. “Oh my God.”

Clarke frowned at the patch of orange juice that was slowly spreading across her dress. “You got me wet.” She commented dryly.

“Clarke!” Lexa practically squeaked. With shaking hands, Lexa forced Clarke to take her phone back. “I've ruined your dress.”

“It's fine, I'll just go dry it off in the bathroom.” She really should have known better than to hand Lexa a photo of herself half dressed. “They have hand dryers here, right?”

Lexa bit at her lip for a moment before grabbing onto Clarke's hand. “This way.” She lightly ordered.

Clarke frowned at the direction Lexa was leading her. She was sure the only thing down the corridor they were about to head down was the elevator. “Erm, Lexa? The bathrooms are back that way.”

“I have a hair dryer in my room.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good Lord. This has over a 1000 kudos now. When did that happen?!?! Thank you ever so much to everyone who clicked the button :) And, of course, extra thanks to everyone who's taken the time to comment.
> 
> Mumsy update: she should be brace free as of next week, but by the time I was back from CC, she was already 110% better than when I left... Not sure what that says about my presence.


	7. Plans

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update took a while, right? I've been bitten by that terrible fanfic author problem of getting a girlfriend. I'm still writing though, but things may take a little longer to post :D

“ _I just don't see why it's anyone's business what it looks like, they've all seen the damn x-rays. Why does it even matter?”_

Before the night had begun, Lexa had made a plan. A _good_ plan. A plan that meant successfully spending the evening with Clarke Griffin and not making a complete fool of herself should have been assured. A plan that would show Clarke just how respectable she could be when she wasn't staring at her breasts.

Then Clarke Griffin went and showed her that damn selfie.

Lexa knew she could have avoided the whole situation. Logically, she knew she could have darted her eyes away and only pretended to have seen the picture. She could have just hummed along with the conversation and let Clarke continue without ever knowing.

Lexa was quickly learning logic didn't come into play all that much when Clarke Griffin was involved.

In the distorted reflection of the elevator doors, Lexa watched Clarke shuffle beside her and pull at the wet material of her dress. Really, she was lucky Clarke had decided to wear black that evening. Other than the noticeable wet patch making the dress _cling_ to her stomach, the juice was almost invisible. Lexa shifted uncomfortably, the elevator was feeling increasingly smaller and she wished it would just hurry up and arrive at her floor.

“You're pretty high up.” Clarke commented suddenly.

Lexa swallowed. “Top floor, it has a view of the whole city.”

“Balcony?”

“Yes.”

Clarke hummed low in her throat. “Well, after spilling your drink over me, you owe me a tour.”

The request had Lexa's head snapping to the side. “A tour?”

Blue eyes looked up at her in confusion. “Of your room?”

Lexa's eyes widened. She had no idea how the thought hadn't quite sunk in before. She was taking Clarke to her room. Her hotel room. Her hotel room with a beautifully carved king sized bed in the middle of it.

Taking Clarke up to her room had _not_ been part of her first date plan.

The bell of the elevator dinged abruptly, signalling their arrival at the top floor.

“Of course. I would love to.” Lexa answered, praying Clarke hadn't heard the slight shake to her voice.

Silently, Clarke followed her down the corridor and it was only the light swishing of her dress that told Lexa she was even following her at all. Following her. To her _room_. Lexa was glad Clarke was behind her, because she was sure the expression on her face was a pained one.

Pulling her key card from her clutch, Lexa opened the door. “I apologise for the mess.”

“Two dresses on the bed hardly counts as a mess, Lexa.” Clarke pointed towards the gently swaying floor length curtains that ran along the far side of the room. “The balcony?”

Lexa had forgotten to close the doors before leaving for the party, her mind preoccupied with the photo of Clarke, Anya had sent to her. “Yes.”

Without waiting for her, Clarke pushed through the fluttered curtains and onto the balcony outside.

With Clarke out the room, Lexa quickly checked her make-up. The bruise was barely visible under the layers of carefully applied concealer. It had been the most horrifically embarrassing moment in her adult life, and Lexa couldn't wait for the reminder to finally disappear completely. Satisfied that it was still hidden, Lexa stepped out into the cool night air.

“It's a beautiful view.” Clarke commented when Lexa stopped beside her.

Lexa tried her best to keep her eyes trained on the city in front of them and not the indescribably beautiful woman beside her. “Yes.”

“Kinda puts everything in perspective.” Lexa looked at the blonde curiously, but Clarke didn't look away from the view. “Makes me feel small.”

“Well, you're not exactly tall, Clarke.”

A snort of laughter came from beside her, and she could see Clarke shaking her head. “I was trying to be serious you know.”

“I'm sorry.” Clearing her throat, Lexa looked up at the darkness about them. “I prefer being away from the city. You can't see the stars from here.”

Clarke hummed before looking up into the inky blackness too. “When I was a kid, my dad used to take me camping in the middle of- well, in the middle of God knows where. He used to teach me about the stars.”

It was the second time Clarke had brought her father up that evening. “You were close with your father?”

“Yeah.” Clarke sighed heavily. “I like to think we still are.”

Lexa knew her own parents loved her, but she would never describe her relationship with them as a close one. Even when she was a child there was always a new nanny or a new teacher who she felt closer to. She was their legacy. The child who was going to carry on the line of their success. They were proud of her, yet, the almost nightly calls and weekly visits had dried up the moment they found out she would never play again. It wasn't her fault, and her parents didn't _blame_ her for becoming injured. It was just that they had nothing to say to each other any more.

“I'm glad you asked me on this date, Lexa.”

“Even though I spilt juice over your dress?”

Clarke chuckled lightly before scrapping her hand back through her hair. “Yeah, maybe we could have skipped that part. It was nice to take a break from the party though.”

A light breeze blew across them and Lexa caught sight of the way Clarke shivered. “Your dress is still wet.” She pointed out. “Let me dry it for you.”

Before Lexa could move away from the railing, Clarke's hand reached out to stop her. The touch felt like it was burning the skin of her wrist.

“Lexa.” Gulping, Lexa looked into Clarke's heavy lidded blue eyes. “Did you really bring me here to dry my dress?”

Her eyes darted over Clarke's face.“Yes.”

“And is that really what you want?” Lexa gulped again, her eyes dipping down to Clarke's lips.

“Yes.” Her voice cracked around the word and Lexa knew the expression on her face would be giving away her true feelings.

Despite what she knew was an obvious longing on her face, Clarke still retreated her hand from her wrist. Lexa blinked in surprise. “Okay,” Clarke smiled at her reassuringly. “Lead the way.”

The hair dryer was still where she had left it in the morning and Lexa subtly directed Clarke until she was within reach of it. There was no easy way to do it. No discreet way to dry Clarke's dress without asking her to take it off all together.

Lexa's mouth went dry at the thought. There was colouring outside the lines of her plan, and there was setting her plan on fire completely.

Grimacing, Lexa knelt down in front of Clarke and tried to stop her throat from bobbing too visibly at the position they were in. She was kneeling in front of the woman she had found herself overwhelmingly attracted to, but still, at least she wasn't naked-

Lexa dropped the hair dryer.

Clarke looked down at her questioningly. “You okay down there?”

Picking up the hair dryer once more, Lexa indicated to Clarke's body. “I need to touch you.”

A single brow arched in response.

“Your dress.” Lexa quickly clarified.

“I kinda figured you would be.”

At Clarke's consent, Lexa flicked on the switch. Immediately the warmth of the hair dryer fanned over the front of Clarke's dress, and using her hand, Lexa held the material as straight as she could. It was almost impossible not to think about the toned stomach lying just beneath the thin fabric. Not when she could feel the warmth of it, and most definitely not when she could feel the slight twitching of Clarke's muscles as she moved her palm over them.

The hair dryer was still blowing on the dress, but Lexa couldn't help her attention drifting to the feel of Clarke's body. There was so much power coiled there. The muscles flexed underneath her hand again and Lexa had to make a conscious effort not to drop the hair dryer on the floor again when Clarke hips rolled into the touch. It was as her hand made a pass over her hip that Clarke's hand suddenly came down to cover her own, stilling her movements. Looking up, Lexa spotted the red flush on Clarke's chest and she wondered how much of it was from the heat of the hair dryer, and how much was from the feel of her unconsciously wandering hand.

Smirking, Lexa cocked her head slightly. “Too hot?”

Clarke opened her mouth a couple of times before merely nodding.

“Here.” Lexa brushed her hands down the front of Clarke's dress again, humming in her throat at the sight of Clarke's blush growing even deeper. “It's still a little damp.”

“Yeah, a little.” Clarke replied through almost gritted teeth.

Lexa moved her hand and let her thumb brush over the arch of Clarke's hip again. It was a new situation for Lexa. It was usually her trying to keep her composure together, not Clarke.

Giving Clarke all the time she needed to step away if she wanted, Lexa brought her other hand up to rest on Clarke's hip. It seemed to Lexa that Clarke had made it her mission to fluster her, and now she was going to return the favour. “Sorry for getting you wet.”

It didn't have quite the effect she was expecting.

Suddenly Lexa found herself being tugged upright, her feet scrambling for purchase as Clarke's strong arms practically lifted her from the floor. She was glad for the painkillers swimming through her system, because her knee would have given more than the subtle twinge it did without them.

Frantic blue eyes were suddenly right in front of her and Lexa floundered for what to say. She hadn't planned quiet this far ahead yet.

“Hi.” Clarke whispered.

Lexa was frozen to the spot completely. This part hadn't been in her original plan. They were meant to kiss at the end of the night. Just once, softly, before Lexa saw Clarke off to her own hotel. _This_ wasn't meant to be happening. Not now, and most definitely not in her hotel room.

The plan was one spark away from being ruined completely.

Lexa couldn't help herself from glancing down at Clarke's lips though. They looked so soft up close. All it would take was for her to lean forwards and capture them with her own.

“So...” Clarke visible swallowed. “You wanna make out?”

If it had been any other time, Lexa might have commented on Clarke's sudden inability to string together a teasing sentence. Right now though, with Clarke's breath brushing over her lips, it was the only confirmation Lexa needed to make her move.

Lexa jolted forwards and practically crashed her lips into Clarke's. It was the complete opposite of the slow and gentle kiss she had wanted to give her at the end of the evening, but Lexa couldn't find it in herself to care. Especially not when Clarke was meeting her kiss with the same ferocity.

Clarke's hands tangled in her hair and a deep groan rumbled from her throat.

It was possibly the best sound Lexa had ever heard.

With renewed confidence, Lexa deepened the kiss and cupped the back of Clarke's head. Slowly, Lexa walked her backwards until she was pressed against the wall. Lexa's nose brushed against Clarke's as she changed the angle of the kiss and she could feel the smile on Clarke's lips as she pressed them together again.

The warmth of Clarke's body and the frantic caress of her lips enough to send Lexa's head spinning in the most pleasant of ways. Clarke's breasts were pressing up against her own, and it was taking everything for her not to trail her hands up Clarke's body to cup them. Through the hazy feeling of Clarke's teeth pulling at her bottom lip, Lexa realised the blonde's hand was travelling up her leg and pulling up the fabric of her dress in the process.

She couldn't control the flinch her whole body gave as the cool night air touched the skin.

Immediately, Clarke pulled away, her concerned blue eyes staring straight at her. “Are you okay?”

“I- Can- My dress-”

Despite her jumbled attempt to explain, Clarke immediately let go of the hem she had been pulling up. “I'm sorry.”

Lexa shook her head, there was no way Clarke could have known. Since the accident the only people who had seen the scars that ran over her thigh and knee cap were her doctors and physiotherapists. She _never_ let anyone else see the ugly, jagged tissue that stood out against her once smooth skin.

“It's fine-”

Clarke was already shaking her head. “I should have asked first-”

There was more to Clarke's sentence, probably further apologies, but Lexa didn't need to hear them. Bringing her hand up to pull Clarke back in again, Lexa softly pressed their lips back together. It was slower than before, their lips gently moving in complete synchronicity. It was as Lexa went to deepen the kiss once more that Clarke's hand pressed against her chest, stopping her advance.

“Lexa... I... There's something I need to tell you-”

“You two ready to leave the love cave?” Anya's voice suddenly called through the door. Lexa groaned and settled her head on the wall behind Clarke. There was still a chance Anya would just leave them- “Or each others love caves?”

Sighing in discontent, Lexa pulled her body away from Clarke's before quickly smoothing down her dress. She practically marched towards the door before flinging it open to glare at the other woman. Anya was leaning against the opposite wall, a glass of champagne held casually in her hand.

Lexa hoped her cheeks weren't as flushed as she feared. “Why are you here, Anya?”

Anya shrugged before taking a sip from her glass. “Clarke needs to give her speech in ten minutes.” Looking over Lexa's shoulder, Anya waved into the room. “I wasn't sure you had it in you any more Commander. Well done.”

Lexa tutted loudly and stepped into Anya's line of vision. “I just spilt my drink on Clarke's dress.”

An expression of disbelief appeared on Anya's face. “What?”

“I spilt my drink on Clarke's dress, we were just drying it off.” Lexa explained, grimacing at the memory of her earlier foolishness.

“No way-” Without any warning, Anya pushed straight past her and marched into her hotel room. “You- Lexa Commander Woods- are a walking gay disaster. Have you actually seen a pair of tits before?”

“Anya!” Lexa yelped, before quickly shutting the door behind her.

Anya swigged back the last of her drink. “You'll get there stud. You ready, Clarke?”

In her inebriated state, Anya had apparently missed the light rumple to Clarke hair and the slight skew to her dress.

“Yeah, I just need to pee.” Clarke scurried into the bathroom, not sparing either of them another look before slamming the door harder than necessary.

“So, was she not ready?” Anya asked.

“Huh?”

“The Finn thing?” Anya commented as she placed her glass on the floor and laid back on Lexa's bed. “She was hung up on it last night.”

Lexa froze her hands clutching too tightly around the hair dryer she was about to pack away. Finn Collins. Clarke's former coach and former lover.

Ignoring the way her heart clenched with unease at Finn's name, Lexa stood up and began wrapping the cable of the hair dryer back around its body. “No. We looked at the view from the balcony and I dried her dress.”

Anya scoffed. “I thought lesbians were meant to be all about moving quickly. You should be going over baby names at this point.”

Rolling her eyes, Lexa pushed Anya's discarded champagne flute back into her hand. “It's only the first date, Anya, and Clarke's bisexual. Now will you-”

The door to the bathroom suddenly opened, revealing a slightly more put together Clarke. “You two ready to go?”

Lexa creased her brow. “Are you okay, Clarke?”

“I'm fine.”

If there was anything Lexa had learnt about that statement, it was that it usually meant the complete opposite. She wasn't going to push Clarke on it though, especially not with Anya sat on the bed sadly swirling her empty glass.

Anya didn't share the same sentiment. “That was a terrible lie, Griffin. You really need to work on that.” Anya muttered as she rose to her feet again. “Come on love birds, it's speech time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and comments in my absence. Especially the comments, I always get excited to see them in my inbox.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on the tumblrs [here](http://amybot3000.tumblr.com/).


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